


Thicker Than Blood

by ms_katonic



Series: Glory to the Forsworn [3]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Angst and Humor, Dark Brotherhood - Freeform, Drug Addiction, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Family Drama, Forsworn, Meet the Family, Romance, Substance Abuse, Thalmor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-31
Updated: 2014-03-21
Packaged: 2018-01-10 17:06:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 98,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1162302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ms_katonic/pseuds/ms_katonic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The worst part of any marriage is dealing with the in-laws, especially when they don't think you're good enough for their little girl. But when your wife is an Altmer and her mother is a devoted Thalmor Justiciar, even a king has his work cut out for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So there was a prompt on the kink meme requesting the Dragonborn's family paying them a visit, with a particular interest in Dragonborns who had gone against type or defied parental/cultural expectations in some way, e.g. Orcs learning magic, Empire-supporting Nords with Stormcloak parents, Imperial heiresses who've turned from pretty socialites to mead-swilling warriors, that sort of thing. Liriel, the assassin with a heart of gold who had two human children and a human husband where she had already had considerable angst over his shorter lifespan, and had already had to unpack a great deal of cultural baggage in the process, was an obvious choice, especially given N&J ended with her on her wedding night wondering if she should have told her Thalmor parents but deciding no, they'd never understand. A sequel where they found out anyway and turned up demanding answers was just crying out to be written.
> 
> So of course, here is the fic where said Thalmor family arrive in Skyrim to find out just what Liriel's been up to and if these alarming rumours from the Embassy are true...
> 
> THE STORY SO FAR: When dragons returned to Tamriel, the one chosen to fight them was an Altmer woman called Liriel, who went on to become Archmage of Winterhold, Listener of the Dark Brotherhood, Slayer of Alduin and adoptive mother to two little girls called Sissel and Lucia, who lived with her and her husband in Markarth. So far, so canon. However, said husband was no ordinary human, but Madanach the King in Rags, and thanks to Liriel, he and his Forsworn followers were instrumental in helping the Empire defeat Ulfric Stormcloak. As a reward for his assistance, Madanach got to keep the kingdom he'd worked for all this time and now rules from Markarth as Reach-King, with his one remaining legitimate child Eola as his heir to the throne, and Liriel Dragonborn as his beloved wife and Queen. Sadly for him, Liriel never told her family back in Alinor about the wedding, leaving that to fall to the Thalmor Ambassador, and when Liriel's Justiciar mother hears disturbing rumours of her daughter marrying a human, the scene is set for trouble.
> 
> Pairings: F!Altmer DB/Madanach, Cicero/Eola, Argis/Elisif  
> Relationships: het  
> Kinks: family drama, crack, a bit of angstiness  
> Warnings for unabashed elven supremacy from the Thalmor characters. Also, Ancalime is pronounced 'an-KA-lee-may'.

It was a sunny, if breezy day, in Solitude. Seagulls and hawks wheeled overhead, occasionally landing on the docks to steal fish or beg for food from unwary strangers. Long-term Solitude residents knew far better than to feed them, and even their notoriously sentimental Jarl and High Queen had accepted the need to ban people from trying to give them food. Didn't stop visitors from trying though, only to have to flee when the seagulls starting harassing them once food stopped being provided, much to the annoyance of the guards who had to deal with the problem and the amusement of everyone else.

Of course, that only applied when it happened to adults. When children were involved, it was a different story. One such child was standing on the docks, newly arrived off a boat from Anvil in Cyrodiil, staring about her at this strange Northern country and shivering a little in the woollen dress her mother had bought her during their brief lay-over in Cyrodiil. She'd complained at the time about being too warm and her mother had told her she would need it in the barbarous ice-waste kingdom they were going to.

It didn't look very icy. But there'd been big white ice mountains in the distant Sea of Ghosts and the marsh on the other side of the river didn't look inviting. She liked the arch though with its big palace balanced on it, home to High Queen Elisif and King-Consort Argis of the Reach and their little girl Princess Lirela, about six months old now. Not much chance of her being allowed in, although you never knew. Daddy was often able to wrangle invites to parties and as for Mamma... When Mamma demanded something, she usually got it.

Right now, the little girl was staring at a seagull. She knew what seagulls were. She'd grown up by the sea after all, although she wasn't ever allowed to go to the harbour on her own. But right now Mamma and Daddy were supervising the luggage being brought ashore and paying no attention to her.

“Hello,” she whispered. “What's your name?” Seagulls couldn't talk, she knew that. But being the youngest child in a family of three when her older siblings were a lot older than her was really lonely sometimes. Especially given she lived in an upper-class mansion and most of her parents' associates didn't have children close to her age. Sometimes she got really lonely. So she talked to trees and animals and told them stories and sang them songs. Even if they didn't talk back, they didn't seem to mind listening.

“My name's Ancalime, but you can call me Cali,” she whispered. “I'm not from Skyrim. We're here visiting my big sister. She lives in a place called Markaff. I think. I don't know where that is, do you?”

No answer, but there never was. Ancalime just shrugged and kept talking.

“She left home ages ago. _Years_ ago. When I was little, really little. But I still remember her. She was really pretty and took me for horse rides and told me stories and taught me magic and said she was going to learn every spell there ever was and have her own magic castle one day. That's why she left, to learn more. She was going to study in Cyrodiil. Except she got in trouble and disappeared and turned up in Skyrim instead. She wasn't supposed to go to Skyrim! Now she's in even more trouble! Mamma's really cross. So we're here to bring her home.” Ancalime glanced over at her mother, still arguing with some poor dockhand, and her father looking tense and uneasy and sad, like he did all the time now whenever he thought no one was looking. Since the letter about Liriel had arrived from the Ambassador here.

“Hey! Elf! No petting or feeding the gulls!”

Ancalime jumped back, slanted green eyes wide. At five foot tall nearly she was already coming up to the same height as some of the lesser races... but these humans, these pale-skinned Nords, they were big. This one was one such and she couldn't even see his face behind that helmet.

“I'm sorry!” she cried. “I wasn't!”

“You looked like you were,” the guard snapped. “Every other week we must get some idiot or other trying to feed them and nearly getting their eyes pecked out for their trouble. You're just lucky it didn't attack. Now that's a five septim bounty and a little trip to Castle Dour for you, come on!”

Ancalime was about four foot ten, the Altmer equivalent of somewhere between eight and nine in human terms, and in no way any kind of adult and anyone who bothered to learn anything about elves would know that. But Altmer bred rarely and few humans had ever seen an Altmer child. Many humans who didn't know better thought she was some kind of dwarf Bosmer, as this guard had.

Ancalime gasped, horrified. She didn't even have five septims and wasn't Castle Dour the prison?

“Mamma!” she shrieked. “Mamma, they're taking me to prison!!”

The guard followed her eyes to the imperious woman a few feet away, with long red hair just like both her daughters' trailing down her back, the delicately pointed ears and golden skin all true Altmer had, about six foot tall... and most intimidating of all, the blue-gold robes of a Thalmor Justiciar.

“Stendarr's sake,” Justiciar Sabrinda muttered to herself but a second later her green eyes had fallen on the hapless guard who was only just realising his mistake. 

“Is there some kind of... problem?” Sabrinda asked, cold voice implying that there had better not be, or someone who wasn't her would be in for dramatically more than they'd bargained for.

“Is, er, she with you?” the guard asked, doing his best not to look frightened. Back in the barracks he'd complain about the Thalmor and joke about them with his mates like all of them... but out here in the open with one of their Justiciars staring you down, it was another matter entirely.

“I'm her _mother,_ ” Sabrinda growled. “Anything you have to say to her, you can say to me. Now, what exactly is she alleged to have done?”

“She was, er, feeding the seagull, or talking to it or something,” the guard said, only sweating a little. “That's a five septim fine round here. They attack people, see.”

“I see,” Sabrinda said calmly. Without batting an eyelid or even seeming to move, she'd flung out a hand, lightning bolt crackling out, hitting the hapless seagull dead centre and killing it instantly. The bird collapsed lifelessly into the river and Ancalime bit back a gasp as it died. She was old enough by now to no longer be terribly surprised at her mother's ruthless streak. Sabrinda wasn't a bad mother or an uncaring one per se... but life in the Thalmor didn't encourage sentimentality.

“Now it will be attacking no one,” Sabrinda said calmly. “Come along, Ancalime. We have a long journey ahead of us.”

“Yes Mamma,” Ancalime said sadly. That was the trouble with her animal friends, she had to be very careful who she befriended and never to bring them back to the house. It wasn't the first time her mother had killed something in front of her. Sabrinda was very particular about who her family associated with and she had a horror of vermin. 

Ancalime wasn't entirely sure what vermin meant – the servants had told her it meant unwanted animals that spread disease and damaged food or crops... but Ancalime had heard her mother use it to refer to humans before now, when she thought Ancalime wasn't listening, and Ancalime wondered if that meant her mother had ever shot lightning at a human. She didn't know. She knew you weren't meant to use Destruction magic on people. But people weren't vermin. Or were they? Her Khajiit nanny (left behind due to Mamma not wanting to leave Ancalime alone without proper Elven supervision and her older brother Haldyn being too busy to look after her, especially with his wife Naarie being pregnant now) was definitely a person... but Ancalime didn't think her mother thought the Khajiit dockworkers back home were. It was all very confusing.

“Did you just kill Cali's latest animal friend?” Sabrinda's husband sighed. Meryndor had been married to her for the best part of three hundred and fifty years now, and was quite used to his wife's high-strung nature. All the same, it was usually him who had to deal with the quiet tears afterwards, first with Haldyn, then Liriel and now little Ancalime, sniffling quietly behind her mother.

Sabrinda glared at him, not in the best of tempers. She'd just got off a cramped boat after a long sea journey during which she'd recalled why she'd not left Alinor since returning home from the First War – she did not travel well by sea – only to find cold weather despite it being Second Seed, surly and unhelpful humans everywhere and now her daughter nearly getting arrested by some idiot guard.

“It was a seagull, Meryn,” she snapped. “I think a young lady of Alinor can do a little better than a common gull. Especially since they apparently attack people. Cali, stop snivelling, you'll ruin your dress. Oh for Aedra's sake, here, have a handkerchief. Now where are those dockhands – you there! We need these cases transporting up to the city, I'm told there's a carriage available for hire there. I suppose you want paying...” Sabrinda was off, snapping at the local Nords and leaving Meryndor alone with his little girl.

“I'm sorry,” Ancalime whispered, staring at her feet. “I didn't mean to.”

“I know, caradiel,” Meryndor whispered, using a traditional, if slightly old-fashioned, Aldmeri term of affection. “But we're in a foreign country now, among humans who won't understand us any more than we always do them. We need to be careful, and you need to stay close by us, all right?”

Ancalime nodded, subdued. “But Mamma always says Altmer are better than humans,” she whispered. “So why do we need to worry about them hurting us? Didn't she go off and fight in the First War to prove that?”

“Well, yes,” Meryndor said carefully, always a little bit guarded discussing the war with Ancalime, and for good reason. Not a defeat, certainly not, but not a victory either and things were still delicate. A topic best avoided by sensible mer. “But you see, _iell-nin,_ the humans? They don't all know that yet. And it's bad manners to tell them. So we need to tread carefully, right?”

Ancalime didn't entirely understand but she nodded anyway. She knew what good manners were, and she was used to being around beastkin. Humans probably weren't much different, right? Even if they did look a bit odd with their pale or brown skin and stubby round ears and not a lot taller than her. Especially Nords with the face-paint and braids and the beards that all the men seemed to have. Beards were terribly savage, everyone knew that, and even rebellious young Altmer men trying to look stylish only had a bit of a beard around their chin. Nords had _lots_ of it. 

It was all very strange in Skyrim. Ancalime wondered if the Reach would be any better.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

“I swear, Elenwen, here five minutes and some idiot guard tried to arrest my daughter!” Sabrinda sighed as she sipped her brandy. “What sort of country is this? I knew about the cold, but dear Aedra, the people are _animals!_ ”

“I know, dear, I know,” Elenwen murmured sympathetically. Meryndor was off putting Ancalime to bed in the Embassy's guest suite, their last night of the comforts of home before a carriage awaited, and not the luxurious type the great and good of Alinor all had, with roofs and curtains and padded seats, oh no. This was an open wooden cart with no padding, where anyone could see them. The fact they'd be travelling through wilderness with no one to watch was no consolation. “We make do however we can and make what compromises we must. Such is life outside the Dominion, we all know this.”

“How do you stand it,” Sabrinda said, shaking her head. “I don't think I'd last five minutes out here.”

“Don't be so hard on yourself, you survived the Oblivion Crisis and the First War, you would cope with Skyrim,” Elenwen scolded gently. Her smile faded as she steered the conversation round to the next topic, the one elephant in the room they'd so far all managed to avoid. Sabrinda's other daughter.

“Liriel's managed to make quite a life for herself out here,” Elenwen said, still sounding quite casual under the circumstances. Sabrinda put her drink down, bravado flickering out.

“How bad is it?” Sabrinda said softly. “Look, I know she broke the terms of her exit visa, I know that, but we can come to an arrangement, surely?”

“If that were all, I'd be quite happy to deliver an official chastisement and issue an exorbitant fee for a visa extension,” Elenwen said, waving her hand dismissively. “But it's worse than that. She managed to get an invitation to one of my parties – I have no idea how, and no idea it was her at first although I did wonder... Anyway, she turned up, left without warning, and hours later, I find someone has killed the Third Emissary, four guards and a human informant, and liberated two Thalmor prisoners, miscellaneous valuables and some top secret dossiers. No proof it was Liriel, but she's a suspect. I'd bring her in for questioning, but she's just too high-profile. She's Thane, that's some sort of noble title round here, in nearly all the Holds in Skyrim. The Jarls love her. The people love her. They tell stories of her helping the innocent, slaughtering dragons, saving lives and never mind the mysterious petty thieving outbreaks and occasional murders that seem to happen when she's in town. Then there's the interfering in politics – instrumental in two different peace treaties and ending the war. Not to mention the Winterhold Incident – the last Thalmor Advisor we had there died in mysterious circumstances, along with Archmage Aren, they put your daughter in his place, and the College has now decided it doesn't need any Thalmor assistance due to Liriel's own Aldmeri links. Her Aldmeri links! Thanks to her, Thalmor interests throughout the region are in jeopardy! The Dominion does not benefit from stable, independent human kingdoms! The Empire's never been more united, and that new Emperor, Amaund the First of House Motierre, seems to think there's no problem. What does it matter if a few barbarians still worship Talos, is his opinion, and that as long as educated people continue to follow the true Eight, all will one day follow. One day!”

Altmer had a more relaxed attitude to time than humans given their longevity, but they were still painfully mortal, and Sabrinda had buried her own parents only a decade before. She knew what was at stake. As long as mortals believed in Talos, as long as they lived free, as long as Mundus was filled with these shortlived lesser creatures, the whole plane was severed from the Aedra and the Altmer were stuck here, living and dying themselves when they should be immortal. All Altmer knew it, or should know it, and all Thalmor believed it. Sabrinda had done her best to bring up her children to believe it too, although Ancalime was a little young to know the exact details of what purifying Mundus would involve. But Liriel knew, had to know. Yet here she was, not only derailing Thalmor plans but fraternising with humans! Robbing her own country's Embassy if rumour was to be believed.

“None of this is unrecoverable from, is it?” Sabrinda said nervously. “If you let me talk to her, I can take her home maybe, keep her safe in Alinor and away from politics. She never cared about them before, it was all magic and lore with her.”

“Perhaps if you had given her a better understanding of politics, she might not be meddling now,” Elenwen said tersely, glaring at Sabrinda as if it were all her fault. “As it is, she's not been universally unhelpful. She's been of assistance with the dragons at least. And all of that we might have been able to overlook – but it's worse than that. Sabrinda, I'm so sorry. I'm afraid... I'm afraid your daughter got married at the end of last year. She lives with him in Markarth, along with the rest of his household, his daughter from his first marriage and her husband, and the two children Liriel and he are raising.”

Sabrinda reached for the brandy and downed an entire shot, feeling the room start to spin.

“Married?” she whispered. “She – she can't be, she's not even been in Skyrim two years. Sweet Mara, Elenwen, when you said she'd been living in the Reach, having inappropriate relations with humans, I assumed a lover, some tawdry little affair! Bad, I know, but something we can hush up, get her back to Alinor, she's an heiress, I'm sure we'd find someone who might overlook a past. But a husband – children – how are there children already??”

“Adopted,” Elenwen said, and that wasn't terribly reassuring – worse if anything. Liriel had gone out and intentionally taken two humans into her house?? Not even as wards or servants or anything?? “About the same stage of development as little Ancalime, I'm told. Sabrinda? Sabrinda, don't, I know it's a shock...”

Sabrinda couldn't breathe. The room had gone blurry and she was shaking all over, refusing to believe it, gasping and sobbing. Her little girl, married to a human, bonded to a lesser creature, perverting and abusing Mara's gift of love by sharing it with – with one of them! And children?? As well keep a lapdog and call it one's baby. 

“Sab? Sabby?” That was Meryndor, and Sabrinda turned to him, all her usual dignity gone as she reached out to the one constant in her life, the one who kept her sane, grounded, reminded her there was something to keep fighting for. Even Thalmor Justiciars loved, and Sabrinda loved Meryndor very much. She clung onto her husband, hoping he'd get her through this, just as his memory and his letters had got her through the First War and the Oblivion Crisis. “Sabby, meleth, what's wrong? Mara's mercy, what's happened? Oh gods, it's Liriel, isn't it? What's she done? Ambassador, I swear, whatever it was we can fix it, get her home, we've all had our youthful misadventures, right?”

“I'm fairly certain yours didn't involve stealing state secrets, negotiating peace treaties between enemy heads of state and flying off into the sunset on a dragon to go fight a semi-mythical dragon god,” Elenwen said drily, a flicker of amusement at the confusion on Meryndor's face. “No, I'm afraid it's worse. Your Liriel has married a human.”

Meryndor just stared at Elenwen, too stunned to process all this and barely hearing Sabrinda's renewed cries of anguish.

“She got married?” Meryndor whispered. “My little girl got married? Without me?” He looked more upset at not being there to walk her down the aisle than about the human son-in-law. Honestly, fathers were so sentimental sometimes.

“She's also adopted two human children,” Elenwen continued, secretly rather enjoying this. “They're all playing happy families down in Markarth. It is rather embarrassing, you know. The child of a high-ranking Justiciar and her husband who owns half the vineyards in Alinor openly marrying a human and raising children with him. It's not exactly low-profile either – she's made quite a name for herself and as for the husband...”

“There must be something we can do,” Sabrinda gasped, drying her eyes and getting practical. “How hard would it be to eliminate him? With him gone, we could take her home, find new homes for the children among our human contacts, we could put all this foolishness behind us...”

“Harder than you might think,” said Elenwen, grimacing. “He's... high-profile. Were it to be linked back to us, there'd be... issues. An incident. Quite possibly the Second War sooner than we're prepared for. There are rumours he and his even have a hold on Emperor Amaund.”

“Well, go freelance then!” Sabrinda cried. “Aren't the Dark Brotherhood operating again? Did you try performing the Sacrament? I had to deal with them before the Oblivion Crisis, that Lachance fellow was quite reasonable. Even tried to recruit me – I had to say no, of course, but even so, charming man... I mean, I suppose he's long dead by now, but can't his successors help? Don't they discreetly eliminate obstacles?”

“We tried,” Elenwen said, shuddering as she sipped her own brandy. “We sent an agent to perform the Sacrament in secret. We heard nothing. So we sent a cell to investigate. The little shack he'd used was covered in blood. The bodies looked like they'd been torn apart by a wild beast, the two that weren't a little pile of charred ash anyway. The Justiciar looked like he'd been... eaten.” Elenwen shivered at the memory. She normally had a very high tolerance of blood and carnage, but the sheer savagery of the assault had been a bit extreme even for her. Most unsettling of all had been the message painted on the walls in blood. ELENWEN. HE IS NOT FOR YOU, it had read. When the Dark Brotherhood said no, they clearly didn't mess about. But even that had paled to what had transpired a few nights later, when Elenwen had woken up to find the Justiciar's missing dagger buried in the pillow next to her face, spearing a note simply reading:

_If the Reach-King's name is mentioned in the Sacrament again, the next dagger will be in your throat._

Elenwen had moved rooms, doubled the guard, consumed a good deal of brandy and not slept well since. 

“Oh,” Sabrinda whispered, going pale. “We – won't be doing that then. Well, never mind, he's human, he'll be dead fifty years from now, so will these children quite possibly, we'll get her back, find her an understanding husband, someone who maybe will overlook it all for a large amount of gold and a leap up the social ladder. A century from now, no one in Alinor will care about some dead human from this... Reach, did you say?”

“The Druadach Kingdom of the Reach,” Elenwen sighed. “Teyrnas Druadaichte y Rhan in their own language, which sounds like Aldmeri except unintelligible and with none of the charm. Tiny, mountainous piece of nowhere, which no one would care about if it wasn't for all the mines. The place is obscenely, staggeringly wealthy and with a few exceptions, most of it's personally owned by its ruler, a ruthless warlord calling himself king who goes by the name of Madanach ap Caradach and who schemed and murdered his way to power.”

“There you are!” Sabrinda cried, finally cheering up. “Can't we cultivate him, get him to frame this animal who's corrupted my little girl? He sounds like exactly the sort of degenerate who'd happily execute someone if we gave him reason.”

“I'm afraid not,” Elenwen said, shaking her head and gearing up for the reactions to this one. “Two reasons. Firstly, despite all appearances to the contrary, he's actually quite obsessed with seeing justice done properly and has resisted all attempts at suborning. It's proven impossible to fix court cases and the ReachGuard actually appear unbribeable. I don't know whether it's loyalty or just that they're more afraid of him than us. Either way, he's not going to execute an otherwise innocent man for us, no Sabrinda, not even if we threaten him or his family. No, planting false evidence of Talos worship on him won't work either, absolutely no one is going to believe the former leader of the Forsworn Rebellion secretly worships the man who conquered the Reach in the first place.”

“I was going to suggest doing that to the husband,” Sabrinda growled, lightning crackling at her fingers. Oh dear. About time to deliver the final blow.

“He _is_ the husband,” Elenwen said, sitting back and waiting for the fun to start. Both Sabrinda and Meryndor's jaws had dropped.

“She... married a king,” Meryndor said vacantly. “A wealthy king. Who can't be bribed.” To Elenwen's horror, he actually looked rather proud, and even Sabrinda looked pleasantly surprised.

“My baby's a queen,” Sabrinda said in wonder, fingers brushing against her lips as she took this in. Then, Justiciar to the last, she recovered herself, although not quickly enough for Elenwen's liking. “Well, if she's going to debase herself for a human, at least she's not an idiot. All the same, we simply cannot have Aldmeri citizens doing this sort of thing. It sets a terrible example – she has a younger sister who idolises her, for Akatosh's sake! No, we will have to step in. Don't worry, Elenwen, we will talk her out of this foolishness and get her home.”

“I hope so,” Elenwen said, her voice hardening. “The alternative is taking action against Liriel herself – eliminating her husband is difficult and likely to cause an incident, but Liriel does like to travel with just one or two companions in the wilderness, hunting dragons. An accident would be unfortunate, but if you cannot persuade her to retire from public life and return to Alinor in haste... it may be necessary.”

“Sab? What does she mean?” Meryndor asked, but deep down, he knew. All Alinorians knew. No one talked about it, but everybody knew. 

“We'll bring her home,” Sabrinda said fiercely. “I promise you, Elenwen. I know my duty to the Dominion, even if Liriel has forgotten it. I'll make her see reason.”

“See that you do,” Elenwen murmured. Liriel had set herself up as humanity's best protector, a hero to all of Tamriel. The Thalmor's ideals came into direct conflict with that, and Elenwen abhorred conflict. When it came to choosing between mer and men, all true children of Alinor would choose mer... else they were no true Alinor child.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

“DADDY!”

Madanach groaned wearily, burrowing underneath the covers of probably the most luxurious bed in Markarth. He had a hangover from Oblivion, no Liriel, a certain amount of public embarrassment to live down (although nothing coin and the implied threat of violence wouldn't help with), and then the cheering prospect of going over the accounts with Nepos and seeing just how much his daughter's wedding had actually cost in the end. At least the generous donation to the Temple of Dibella that he was going to have to make to avoid a scandal was tax-deductible. He had no idea who Sam Guevenne actually was, but if he ever showed his face in the Reach again, the ReachGuard had standing orders to execute the son of a bitch on the spot.

But daughter number (four) one was married off at last, and with any luck he might have more grandchildren in a year or two, hopefully saner than their father. As it was, until that happy day, he had daughters two (five) and three (six) to deal with.

“What is it, cariad?” he said wearily.

“Uncle Nepos sent us,” Sissel said, climbing on to the bed and sitting cross-legged next to him. “He said you needed to get up and be presentable, court was opening at ten.”

“It's not opening at ten,” Madanach growled. “I gave everyone three days off for the wedding, then it's the weekend. Court's not re-opening until Morndas.”

“But Da,” Lucia piped up, perched on the end of the bed. “It is Morndas.”

What?? Surely not. The wedding had been Middas afternoon, then the party all night, Thurdas a complete mystery, then waking up on Fredas in the Temple of Dibella with Liriel, both dishevelled wrecks and with the entire priestesshood staring at him. Not actually shouting at him, no one in Markarth other than Nepos, Eola or Liriel got away with that, but radiating disapproval. Neither he nor Liriel had remembered a damn thing but apparently there'd been... fondling. Of each other and the statuary, allegedly. And propositioning of the priestesses, becoming aggressive when told to go home, they were drunk, and insisting they could pleasure a woman like no man they'd ever had. Madanach had sworn up and down he would never do that, only for Senna to snap “not you, her!” and pointing at Liriel, whose cheeks had gone scarlet. 

Madanach had profusely apologised, dragged Liriel out of there, gone to the barracks and ordered a squad of ReachGuard into the Temple to clear it up, told Nepos to send a suitably large donation to said Temple as a gesture of apology and then braced himself for a long and difficult conversation with Liriel. Mercifully it turned out she didn't remember anything after having a few drinks with Sam at the wedding party either, and after much cuddling and reassuring each other that it was all right, they still loved each other, they definitely didn't have an open marriage and that they'd drink a disease cure potion each then get back to normal, they'd agreed never to talk about it again. Of course, then the guards had brought that note they'd found in the Temple addressed to Liriel from Sam, with the word 'Rorikstead' scrawled on it in Liriel's own handwriting, and Liriel had left the city in horror, trying to find out just how much was left of their reputations. That had been yesterday... hadn't it? He'd gone to bed to recover and sleep, not having either Liriel's youth or Elven constitution. That had been two days ago??

“I've been in bed two days?” he said vaguely, scratching his face and realising with horror how much stubble was there and how appalling he must look.

“You were fast asleep, Da,” Lucia said and she at least looked worried, bless her. “Are you all right?”

Probably not, but he was king and that did mean getting out of bed and proving he was just fine, thank you very much.

“Yes, yes I'm fine, I just need a shower and a shave and food and... what time is it?”

“Half past nine,” Sissel said, grinning. “You should hurry. Uncle Nepos and Auntie Keirine have a bet going on as to whether you'll be there or not. He thinks you'll be there at ten but you'll look awful, and she says we won't see you before midday. Still looking awful,” she added, completely unnecessarily in Madanach's opinion.

“How much are they betting exactly?” he asked. 

“Ten septims,” Lucia told him. Ten septims? Was that all? He'd have expected Keirine to have had a bit more recklessness in her at least. Never mind. It was often the smaller bets that were the most fun to derail.

“Right,” Madanach said, head clearing. “Lucia, open that cupboard and pass me that little red bottle, the bigger red one next to it and that green potion. Sissel, go and fill the washing bowl from the pool and bring it over here, along with that towel next to it and my shaving kit – it's in that Dwemer box. Then get yourselves out of here and not a word to anyone.”

The girls scurried around the room acquiring said items and as they bustled out, Madanach knocked back a poison cure, all-purpose tonic and a stamina draught (and not the Stallion's Draught either, honestly, he kept telling people he didn't need it, he was getting old, not dying) before heading to the very convenient built-in natural pool with waterfall, his Destruction magic providing all the temperature control one might need. By Sithis, he'd missed this room. Two years living here first time around had spoiled him utterly, and now he had it back, he was never letting it go.

Then shaving and getting dressed in his usual formal court regalia – the blue and gold Robes of the First Dragonborn, a little gift from Liriel after the whole Miraak incident, and the matching gloves and boots. Then the Torc of Red Eagle round his neck and a magicka boosting circlet on his head and he was ready to go.

Five minutes before ten, Madanach was striding out into his courtroom as if the last week had never happened, looking as kingly as he ever did.

“At ease,” he snapped as the ReachGuard on duty stood to attention on seeing him. He stopped at the table near the throne, where his steward, bodyguard, sister and daughter were all having breakfast, new son-in-law perched on the daughter's lap.

“Hello Reach-King!” Cicero cooed from where Eola was cuddling him. “You are awake! Cicero missed you!” Without another word, he slid off her lap and bounded over, sliding arms around Madanach's waist and grinning suggestively up at him.

“Welcome back, boss,” Borkul grinned. “We thought you'd never wake up.”

“Not at this hour we didn't,” Keirine growled, her usual illusions down for once and the feathers on show. “Brother, you disappoint me.” She shoved ten septims into the centre of the table, looking disgusted.

“Shaved and dressed as well, good heavens,” Nepos said, surprised. “We were expecting a hungover wreck.”

“Not me,” Eola grinned as she raked in both Keirine and Nepos's gold. “I knew you'd be here on time, looking as good as ever. I had faith in you, Da.”

“Someone was cheating,” Keirine growled, glaring at her niece. “I don't know how, but you were.”

Madanach suspected that Sissel and Lucia had not come to wake him on their own initiative and that furthermore might be finding themselves richer by a few septims each come lunchtime, but he said nothing. Partly because such cunning and deviousness were traits he wished to encourage in his children, and partly because he presently had a smirking jester groping him.

“Aren't you supposed to be married now?” Madanach growled. “To my daughter, no less.”

“Don't worry, Da, Cicero and I have a relaxed approach to monogamy,” Eola said cheerily as she tore into her steak, bloody and rare as always. It had probably been vaguely introduced to a cooking fire at one point, but evidently the two just hadn't got on.

“Cicero has heard he and pretty Eola are not the only ones,” Cicero purred, dark eyes smouldering up at Madanach. “Cicero has heard of developments elsewhere too.”

Oh gods, his daughter deciding to have an open marriage, that was all he needed. Especially with a son-in-law like this.

“Well you heard wrong,” Madanach growled. “Now get off me and get back to your wife before I use cloak spells on you.”

Cicero scampered off, squealing and cackling as he ran back to Eola, suggestive grin never fading. Madanach inwardly shuddered. Oh good, he could expect a full day of this. 

“Right. You, soldier, get to the kitchen and order breakfast for me – bacon, scrambled eggs, toast, they know how I like them done. Keirine, we're opening court any minute, do you perhaps want to at least pretend we're a nice, normal country?”

“Nice and normal? Us?” Keirine scoffed. “Madanach, they know what we are – dark mages, necromancers and Daedra worshippers. We are just the Empire's necromancers and Daedra worshippers now, their magic-resistant special forces for when the Dominion rises again. And you made Hagravens full citizens and it illegal to harm one.”

“I did, I also legalised consensual blood-drinking, that does not mean I wish to see it going on in the streets,” Madanach snapped, settling himself in the Mournful Throne. “Nepos, what have we got today?”

Keirine sighed and recast her Illusion cloak, Hagraven features vanishing as she took on the appearance of a silver-haired old lady, a female version of Madanach dressed in simple black mage's robes. Eola finished breakfast and chivvied Cicero off to start packing, preparing for their imminent honeymoon in Solstheim – an unusual choice, but it was wild, dangerous and very easy to hide bodies in. It was also rumoured to be home to a Morag Tong cell... although not once Cicero and Eola were through it wouldn't be. The Dark Brotherhood held grudges for a very long time.

Borkul took up his usual place at the foot of the Mournful Throne, and Nepos settled at Madanach's side with the court schedule. Another day in the Reach, just like any other... for now.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mild Dragonborn spoilers, mostly due to all the loot Liriel brought back from Solstheim. Also Liriel makes her appearance in this one! I missed her too. :)
> 
> Warnings for implied tentacle sex and general debauchery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cicero and Eola are all set to leave for their honeymoon... but some unexpected arrivals mean Eola could be staying around a little bit longer. Meanwhile Liriel's back in the Reach after a frantic chase across Skyrim, unsure if she should be throttling her husband or begging his forgiveness, unaware that her adventures with Sanguine are the least of her troubles.

“Right, you got everything?” Eola asked, surveying Cicero as he stood in Understone Keep's entrance hall, dressed in the Dark Brotherhood's Shrouded Armour and his usual jester hat, pack on his back and weapons at his waist, chief of which was Molag Bal's Mace, earned after a little escapade involving the unfortunate discovery of a shrine to him in the city – unfortunate for the Vigilant who'd made the discovery anyway. It had been very fortunate indeed for Cicero, Eola, Keirine and Madanach, who'd got a shiny mace, a boost to Eola's reputation as a fearless warrior-mage like her father, a Daedric Shrine to experiment on and the Empire's officials now believing Madanach to be a staunch opponent of dark magics respectively out of the deal. 

On his other hip was a little souvenir from Cicero's last visit to Solstheim with Liriel, there to slaughter the First Dragonborn, Miraak. There had been pretty things aplenty out of that one, and Cicero's present had been a sword made out of writhing tentacles that lashed out at its targets, draining the life out of them. He'd called it Calamario.

“Cicero has everything!” Cicero cooed. “He has the armour and the potions and the food and the soul gems and some books and Calamario and his dagger and his mace and spare clothes for us both and Eola's armour packed and all her vital necessities, and Mother was tended to yesterday and those new apprentice initiates that your father sent were told that if she was in anything other than pristine condition on Cicero's return there would be... punishment.” Cicero cracked his knuckles, eyes gleaming at the thought and Eola actually shivered as the Forsworn Bond of Matrimony faithfully delivered the emotion to her. Bonded to Cicero for life. It was an odd experience, especially as Forsworn spouses were magically bonded so that each knew where the other was and what they were feeling. Eola really hadn't been at all sure about it, but she'd been pleasantly surprised. The bond had kicked in, Keirine smiling knowingly as it had entwined them both, and then she and Cicero had looked at each other, both realising they could sense the other in their heads. 

Cicero had stared at her, pale, eyes wide and while she'd explained it to him, they all had, she wasn't sure he'd really understood. Was he going to freak out? Did he hate the idea already?

No, had been the answer to that. 

“I can _feel_ you!” he whispered. Eola had nodded, focusing on him and realising it wasn't shock or horror she was getting off him, it was amazement. Then he'd started smiling, a deliriously happy smile, despite the tears in his eyes, and then he'd pounced, clutching her to him.

“You're _real!_ ” he'd squealed. “You're inside Cicero's head! Cicero isn't... isn't alone any more! Cicero won't be lonely! Cicero never needs to worry about the silence again!”

“No,” Eola whispered as she'd held him. “No you won't, I'll look after you, I promise.” He'd held her even tighter and kissed her, and she'd felt her heart melt as she'd felt him in her mind, a little pulsing ball of a hundred and one flickering emotions that were constantly fluttering and changing – but every so often they'd stop and then she'd look up and realise he was watching her and smiling, thinking of absolutely nothing other than that he loved her dearly. 

It was traditional for Forsworn spouses to closet themselves off from the rest of the world in a special tent for the first week or so of marriage and Eola was beginning to see why. In between having a lovelorn Cicero doting on her, which frequently led to sex, and then Cicero's other urges kicking in, or indeed her own, which... usually also led to sex, if she was honest, they really were getting nothing done. Definitely time to get out of Markarth and off to Solstheim for some well deserved hunting. Eola hadn't had Dunmer in ages. Would the ash improve the flavour or ruin it, she wondered.

“And Cicero also has Eola's Staff of Tentacular Delights!” Cicero cooed, waving Eola's Solstheim souvenir at her. Ah yes, the Staff of Tentacles. A formidable weapon, but the true significance had only become apparent after the discovery it had two settings – poisonous and non-poisonous, and the latter gave a lot more fine control than the former. After Liriel had discovered this, wondered in front of her husband one night what on earth the point of it was and got more of an answer than she'd bargained for, it had ended up with Eola a few days later, Liriel blushing throughout the conversation as she'd told Eola she really had no use for the thing, no really, none at all. 

Eola and Cicero had had plenty of use for the thing. Grinning, she took it off Cicero, and he really needed to stop looking at her like that or they'd never leave.

“Come on,” she told him. “Time's a wasting. The teleport won't wait all day.”

Almost two years free, and the Reachmen had not been idle. Coin beyond their wildest dreams and a king who encouraged all sorts of magical research had led to innovations found nowhere else, as old magic and Dwemer technology had merged. There were lots of little things but probably the biggest change had been Matriarch Keirine being finally able to work out a way of getting the little personal teleportation network she had at Hag's End to work over longer distances, and to develop a few fixed points that would work for anyone. The result? A permanent portal between Markarth and Cwm Prendwemyn, the Reach's Forsworn-built second town in the north at Deepwood Redoubt, with further portals planned at Sundered Towers and Lost Valley in the next year. Madanach had even approached Jarl Elisif to see about building one at Solitude, but so far the High Queen had been adamant in her refusals. Honestly, Nords. So narrow-minded. Weren't they supposed to be brave? It only involved standing in a magic circle while ReachGuard witchblades stood around you and chanted while sprinkling blood, and then your entire body dissolved and reassembled itself at the other end in seconds. Just because a few of the initial test subjects had died in agony was no reason to abandon such a useful invention in Eola's mind. 

So off to what had once been the Shrine of Talos, now home to Markarth City Teleportation Chamber. Goodbyes had been said to Madanach, and now Eola and Cicero were making their way through Markarth's winding city streets. Teleport to Cwm Prendwemyn, a nice restful night at Keirine's, then the carriage to Solitude, ship to Windhelm and then on to Raven Rock. There in a week hopefully. Then two weeks spent murdering their way through Solstheim and back. Great fun!

Cicero skipped ahead, already cackling to himself about slaughtering the Morag Tong, turning a corner into the passage leading to the teleport chamber. Then she felt his mood change to surprise... and delight.

“LISTENER!!!” she heard him shriek, and Eola ran after him. Liriel back already and porting in from Hag's End?? How'd she ended up there? Eola couldn't wait to hear this.

Cicero was skipping along the passage to where an Altmer woman was emerging from the door, still brushing her robes down, and Eola saw familiar red hair, same Altmer features, delicately pointed ears, yes, that looked like Listener Liriel... except were those Thalmor robes? Liriel never wore Thalmor robes, hated people thinking she was associated with them. True, she'd worn them to infiltrate their Embassy but never since. Then Eola saw the figures emerging behind her, two Thalmor guards, a blond Altmer man in merchant robes... and a smaller red-haired figure, also Altmer but short, shorter than she was and ears too big for her head, clutching the Altmer merchant's hand and looking nervously about.

Sweet Namira, was that an Altmer child?? That had the same red hair the woman did, and that Liriel did and Eola felt chills run down her spine.

In the end it was a good thing she'd married Cicero the week before. Eola's alarm shot straight into Cicero's brain and he stopped dead, balancing one leg and pausing just before throwing himself on to the mysterious Justiciar.

Cicero looked, properly this time. The passage way was shadowed, but there were free-standing permanent magelights, another new invention out of Hag's End, around the teleport door which gave enough light for Cicero to see green eyes, not Liriel's golden ones, a few wrinkles around the eyes and the odd grey hair that Liriel didn't have... and a glacial expression of contempt that Liriel had never given Cicero.

“You – you are not... but... er...” Cicero gathered his wits, cheeks bright red as he giggled nervously and backed away. 

“Cicero is very sorry, madam, very sorry to have troubled you, he thought you were someone else! Er... Cicero shall be going.” He turned and fled, darting behind Eola and peering nervously over her shoulder as the Justiciar bore down on them.

“You there, girl. Is the gibbering fool with you?”

Even sounded like Liriel, if Liriel was given to ordering people around like that, which she wasn't. Eola drew herself up to her full height, narrowing her own eyes. No one spoke to her Cicero like that. Only her father was allowed to say things like that about Cicero, and that was because he did actually like Cicero deep down, in small doses anyway.

“He's with me,” Eola said tersely. “Justiciar, we weren't expecting the Thalmor. I thought Elenwen had agreed there was little evidence of Talos worship here?”

“ _Ambassador_ Elenwen has indeed agreed that the Druadach Kingdom of the Reach is not a hotbed of heresy and that its religious practices, however... unusual... are at least in worship of entities recognised as possessing power beyond the mortal plane,” the Justiciar sniffed, and that was a very Lirielian turn of phrase right there. “However, this is not a standard business call. Where is Liriel.”

Oh sweet Sithis and Namira. Looking and sounding like an older version of Liriel. A Thalmor Justiciar seeking out the Dragonborn. Liriel didn't talk about Alinor much, but Eola knew her family were pillars of society back there. They'd never approve of her marrying a human, and Liriel had said her plans were to stay out here and not return for a few centuries, hoping they'd see the whole Queen of the Reach thing as a youthful dalliance to be ignored.

Looked like that plan was well and truly in the midden.

“Cicero,” Eola said. “ _Mynd an Caer Dancarrach, a siara gyd ma vada. Siara yan y agarteg ap Davrha-Brenhina daw ansio anas._ Go on, go!”

Cicero nodded and sprinted off, having learnt enough of the Reach-Tongue by now to have simple conversations and follow simple instructions, such as the one she'd just given him to warn Madanach his in-laws had just shown up. Leaving Eola alone with the Dragonborn's family.

“She is not in the city,” Eola told her. “She travels abroad quite often, she's not an easy woman to find. After all she's done for us, the Dragon-Queen owes us no account of her whereabouts.”

“She will owe it me when I find her,” the Justiciar growled. “Very well then, where is her residence. I am told she's made quite the home for herself here. That there's... intimates. I'll speak with them if Liriel isn't here.”

Couldn't even bring herself to say the word husband, could she? This did not bode well. Eola couldn't even discreetly kill the woman, the disappearance of a Justiciar would be noticed. That and the little girl was watching her intently, staring at the Staff of Tentacles and her silver torc and her Shrouded Robes and clearly dying to ask her all about it but too well-bred to do any such thing. Even Eola didn't fancy wiping out an entire family, especially not Liriel's. 

“Come with me then,” she said with a shrug. “The King will want to know of this. I am sure he can find you suitable accommodations until Liriel returns. You do of course know Liriel now holds Imperial citizenship and enjoys the protection of the House of Madanach. You will require an extradition process if you wish her to return to the Summerset Isles.”

“I'd heard,” the Justiciar said grimly. “But we shall see what transpires. Meryn! Come on, this young woman's taking us to meet the King.”

Meryn seemed to be the long-suffering merchant who sighed, telekinesed the trunks in what actually took a fair bit of magicka to achieve, and took the girl in his free hand, following after what was clearly his wife. Yes, golden eyes like Liriel's, actually looking kind and benevolent, definitely Liriel's father. And that was Liriel's little sister – Liriel had a little sister! An adorable little sister who was hiding behind her father and peeping shyly out at Markarth, perhaps feeling a bit self-conscious as every single passer-by stopped to have a look, none of them really ever having seen a child Altmer before. The Orcs just nodded and the Nords just glared a bit, but the Reachmen as one stared, gasped and then started cooing.

“Baby elf! Look, there's a baby elf!”

“She's lovely!”

“I didn't know they had baby elves!”

“Well where in the Void did you think they came from, Morven? They don't divide in two to make new ones!”

“Her ears, oh Anu, the _ears,_ look at them!”

“I had no idea they were so _cute!_ ”

Ah yes. Reachmen and elves. Despite everything, despite having killed Thalmor as readily as Nords during the occupation, Reachmen did tend to fetishise elves a bit. Normally they'd be a bit more discreet than this though. Evidently the unexpected presence of a little one had sent more than a few people a little mad. Mercifully it was just squealing quietly and whispering. They'd have a lot more to whisper about when word of the visitors' identities got out. Eola shivered as she tried to work out what this all meant for them. Nothing good, in fact she couldn't see a way out of this one that ended well for anyone. If Liriel didn't end up losing her blood-kin, the Reach might well end up losing Liriel.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“REACH-KING, REACH-KING, SWEET AND LOVELY REACH-KING!!!!”

The shrieking echoed down Understone Keep's passageways, guards standing rigidly to attention partly because protocol demanded it, and partly because Cicero's presence made anyone uneasy. Including his father-in-law.

“Oh gods,” Madanach sighed. Just as he'd got rid of Cicero, looking forward to a nice quiet jester-free few weeks, the little maniac came shrieking back.

“Didn't we just get rid of him?” Borkul muttered, sharing Madanach's opinion on this. “Something can't have gone wrong already.”

Probably not, in fact they couldn't even have ported out yet... unless the portal wasn't working. Sweet gods, had there been an accident??

“Cicero?” Madanach asked as Cicero sprinted up the steps and collapsed in front of the throne, before sitting up, gesticulating wildly. “Is everything all right? Did something happen? Where's Eola?”

“Well!” Cicero gasped. “Well... and alive and intact, no harm to her, no. But she sent me back with a message, a very important message to be delivered at once!”

Worrying. Something had happened and Eola couldn't come herself. Keirine had headed back to Deepwood that morning, so whatever it was had clearly occurred at the Markarth end.

“Borkul, get out there, take some of the palace guard with you, check the city's all right. Find and liaise with Eola and get a report off her.” Would take some time, but likely quicker than debriefing Cicero. “Now, what's the message.”

“She said... she said a cart eggy Davrha-Brenhina, door antsy orannus. It was in the Reach-Tongue, sir, Cicero wasn't sure what it meant...” Cicero was kneeling in front of him, looking hopefully up at Madanach, and what possessed Eola to give him instructions in Rhanic, Madanach had no idea. Cicero's pronunciation was terrible and his accent worse. Unless... unless she'd not wanted anyone in earshot who wasn't a Reachman to know what she was saying. So outsiders were involved. What sort of outsider? Nords? Empire? Thalmor? Orcs? Someone else entirely?

“Nepos, do you have any idea what he's babbling about now?” Madanach sighed. Nepos didn't look any too certain either, but he had a lot more patience than his king did.

“I think that last bit is _daw ansio anas_ , so someone has just arrived. A guess based on context. Something to do with the Queen, but clearly not her in person or Eola wouldn't have dispatched him with the need for secrecy.”

That would be the a cart egg bit then. “A cart egg y Liriel – well, _teg_ is folk, a car folk of Liriel?”

“People!” Cicero shrieked, tearing at his hair in panic. “A Thalmor Justiciar and her guards, and another man and a little Altmer. Cicero thinks that one might be a child.”

So it was the Thalmor... but Liriel despised the Thalmor, felt betrayed by them, felt ashamed to be Altmer because of them. Eola knew this, would never refer to Thalmor as Liriel's folk.

“Oh, I think I have it!” Nepos exclaimed. “Could it be agarteg, blood-kin? Cicero, was it _agarteg y Davrha-Brenhina daw ansio anas?_ ”

“YES YES!” Cicero squealed, bouncing to his feet. “That was it! Oh well done, sirs, you're both so clever.”

Madanach grinned at Nepos, who was also looking rather pleased with himself. They'd got there in the end. So this message was 'Liriel's blood-kin have just got here'.

Silence as the meaning sank in for both king and steward. Then mutual sensations of panic.

“What do I do?” Madanach whispered, fear prickling down his spine. Yes, he'd known she had family, family who'd never approve of their marriage so she'd elected to simply not tell them. She'd assured him they were back in Alinor, didn't travel often these days, her mother got horribly seasick, he'd probably never have to worry about them.

Neither of them had banked on Liriel's family making an appearance here, and if they were here... they probably knew about the wedding. Half of Skyrim had been there, it was hardly a secret. He had in-laws and with barely any notice, he was going to be meeting them, with his wife not even there.

“Run,” Nepos suggested. “I'll make your excuses, tell them you're inspecting our border camps, not expected for another week. Liriel will be back by then, she can deal with them. I'll send a courier to track her down anyway.”

“And the kids, am I supposed to hide them too?” Madanach snapped. “My days of fleeing Markarth with my family are over, Nepos. Cicero, get out of here unseen, get to Vlindrel Hall, take this key. Clear out anything that might embarrass me or your Listener. Any unsuitable books, incriminating paperwork, unique weapons or clothes, anything Daedric or Shrouded or related to the Thieves Guild. Get it back here and get it to Nepos for concealment. Go!”

Cicero took the key and sprinted off, leaving Madanach with his steward.

“We're playing host then,” Nepos said, surprised.

“In a manner of speaking,” Madanach said wearily. “It's Liriel's house, they're Liriel's family, there's still a child's bedroom there. If you can assign them a servant to keep an eye on them, give them Argis' old room, I'll assign the guards to the barracks when they're off-duty. Sithis, but this is going to be awkward.”

“I'll make the arrangements,” Nepos said, patting him on the shoulder. “Don't worry, they can't actually do anything without an incident. I'd wager Liriel's the one they're really angry at.”

Except Liriel wasn't here to take said anger, which meant it'd be directed at him. But he'd faced worse and he was not backing down just because things had got difficult. Liriel had made her choices freely, and Madanach intended to show her family that there was nothing they could do. He'd already lost his throne once. Damned if he was losing his wife just because her kin objected.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Liriel opened her eyes, wincing in the daylight. She was back where it had all started, back at the Lover Stone, traditional location for Forsworn weddings. Cicero and Eola had got married here a few days previously, as had she last year. It had been the happiest day of her life. She'd curled up in his arms at the end of the day, feeling safe, loved, adored beyond all measure, and thanks to the Forsworn Bond of Matrimony, she'd known Madanach felt the same.

And thanks to Sanguine, now she wasn't at all sure she hadn't just ruined everything. Vague memories kept coming back to her, flashes of vision and she wasn't sure if they were real or hallucinations or fantasies or what... but she had a horrible feeling she'd had sex with someone who wasn't her husband, maybe more than one someone, and said husband not only not minding but encouraging her. Not to mention the parts where she was sure Sanguine had had his tongue down her husband's throat and Liriel hadn't even thought Madanach liked men... or Dremora in this case.

Every time she thought of it all, she wanted to cry, and the desperate race across Skyrim to find out just what they'd managed to do hadn't helped. First visiting Rorikstead to find out she and Madanach had abducted a prize-winning goat and whisked it off to the Hagraven at Bleakwind Bluff, Madanach apparently claiming the best watch-goat in Tamriel was wasted on the farms of Rorikstead. Liriel had had to go and reclaim it, apologising profusely and paying out her hard-stolen cash to Matriarch Esmerelda in order to finally persuade her to part with Gleda. On the other hand, Esmerelda's guards had been negotiating with that farmer Ennis to let them breed Gleda with one of their studs when Liriel finally left, and the prospect of coin and the next generation of prize-winning goats being his to share had seemed to be winning the farmer over, so that was something.

Then there'd been the next lead, Ysolda in Whiterun, who'd been most put out about a missing wedding ring, and told Liriel off for not paying for it, and that even if she and Madanach were taking on another spouse to give them the children Liriel couldn't have, that was no reason to not pay for the ring. Liriel had given her two thousand septims on the spot for the ring and to keep quiet about any such arrangement, and where was this mysterious third anyway?

She'd turned out to be Matriarch Moira of Witchmist Grove who'd helped with the Battle of Windhelm when Madanach's army had camped out on the Aalto plain right next to her home. Apparently after enlisting her aid in wiping out the giant camp to the south, they'd gone back to hers and that 'silver-tongued husband' of hers had apparently been rather grateful, as had she. Liriel hadn't wanted to know any more, just wanting to know where they'd been before turning up here. Moira had looked most put out that there wasn't going to be a repeat of last time, but she'd given in when Liriel had threatened to set fire to her and shrieked that she'd been promised a new tower in Morvunskar for her trouble, she wanted her tower!

Liriel had gone back to where Aranea Ienith, Jenassa and Serana, the three journeyman initiates of Reachcliff Sanctuary, had been waiting, all avoiding her eyes and looking like they were desperately trying not to laugh, and tersely told them to pull themselves together, they were taking Morvunskar. Which they had done, and two Elven mages, one Elven mercenary-assassin and a Nord vampire necromancer had had no trouble dealing with its denizens. Then the portal had opened and Liriel had sent Jenassa back to let Moira know the castle was hers before emptying the loot chest and stepping through with Aranea and Serana.

Sanguine himself had greeted her, welcoming her back and looking disappointed her husband wasn't here this time.

“Beshtest kisser I've encountered inna long time,” Sanguine had said proudly and Liriel had barely restrained herself from flinging fire at him, while Aranea had actually snorted before hastily turning the laughter into a coughing fit. Both Aranea and Serana had changed their tune when he'd propositioned them.

“Oh no, I've already had to service one Daedra, that was enough,” Serana said firmly.

“No one else will ever compare to Azura,” Aranea had said wistfully, and Liriel really did not need to know this about her friends. 

So in the end, Sanguine had given her the Sanguine Rose and sent her back here to where it had all started and Aranea and Serana had ended up back in Windhelm, at least she hoped so. She was sure a Daedra-worshipping Dunmer mage and a vampire necromancer could look after themselves anyway. Right now, she was more concerned about her husband. She'd not really been able to feel him like she normally did, his presence had been there but... muted. Like he'd been asleep the whole time. She hoped he was all right. Despite the fact all this was at least half his fault, possibly more since he'd been the one to drunkenly invite Sam over, greeting him as an old friend and offering him potent Reach jenever and introducing him to Liriel as a drinking buddy he'd befriended at Argis's stag night. Had Liriel been sober at the time, she'd have remembered the intoxicated mess Madanach had been in at said stag night and dragged him home, but alas she had not and the results... well. She'd just been lucky Madanach had held her on Fredas morning and told her he was sorry, so sorry, he didn't know or want to know what happened, but she was still his wife and he loved her, please don't leave him, he'd do anything. She'd cried from relief he didn't hold anything against her and told him she didn't want anyone else, ever.

“Nor do I,” he'd whispered back, tears in his own eyes. “You're my beautiful, perfect wife and I don't want anyone but you.”

Liriel could feel tears coming back as she remembered it all, and she could feel the emotion welling up inside as she thought of her husband – maybe a human, maybe an older one at that, but hers, all hers, her sweet, loving, half-crazy, ruthless, powerful and dangerous husband and by Sithis, she missed him.

_Madanach, Madanach, I love you, I'm coming home._ The bond didn't transmit thoughts, not exactly, but if one was thinking about the other, the other could tell, and the strength of the feelings was usually apparent. 

And there he was, awake at last, feeling her and responding, reaching out to her, love and care as always... and panic. Something was wrong, he was worried, he needed her. Was it one of the kids? Or Eola? Had Cicero done something horrible? 

Liriel didn't know, but she didn't waste any time wondering. Grabbing her things, she took off at a run. The Reach's Queen was coming home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eola's words to Cicero are 'Go to Understone Keep and speak to my father. Tell him Liriel's family have just arrived'. Next up, Madanach meets his in-laws. :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madanach meets his in-laws and it's hard to say who's less pleased with the situation. Ancalime however is having a great time, especially when she starts making some new friends...

Really, this city was as horrible as Elenwen had implied. Stone everywhere, a maze of winding, twisting pathways, and the people, dear Aedra, the people! Orcs and humans mostly, those dark-skinned Redguards, more of those bearded Nords, and then there were the Reachmen. In particular the guards, in fur outfits that looked like rags held together with bone and feathers, that covered nothing. Sabrinda had already seen Meryndor glancing for a second too long at one of the women – he'd hidden it well, but she'd seen. Then there'd been the way everyone had kept staring at Ancalime – previously stony-faced Breton guards taking one look at her little girl and gasping and whispering like they'd never seen a child before. And so what if her ears were too big for her head? She'd grow into them eventually, all Altmer did. 

She put her arm around her daughter and ushered her onwards, following the Reachwoman who'd met them at that infernal teleportal. Sabrinda was all for magic, but that thing was just not natural. She'd had flashbacks to the Oblivion Crisis, staring into yet another Oblivion Gate as the Dremora hordes prepared to pour through, shouting at her soldiers to hold firm, they were the trueborn sons and daughters of the Aedra and they _would not fall._

It had been several moments before she'd realised she'd been clinging on to Meryndor in terror, Ancalime staring up at her with wide eyes, and she'd pulled herself together for her daughter's sake and led the way.

Anyway, they'd made it, and why Liriel had chosen this city, Sabrinda had no idea. Stakes welded into stone rooftops, goat's heads on pikes on every corner, an entire Spriggan corpse over one building's entrance, the sound of steelworks on the far side of the central crag. Liriel could have had the glass spires, golden sandy beaches and warm summer breezes of Alinor, with cicadas chirping and jasmine in the air. Instead she'd chosen... this.

That girl was leading them up to the stone edifice at the far end of the city, the one with the waterfall pouring over the front. Ancalime gasped to see it, and Sabrinda tightened her grip. This city had already claimed one daughter – it was not taking the other.

A particularly vicious-looking Orc emerged from the Keep at the head of a small patrol of Reach-Bretons, the Orc at least having the decency to be wearing heavy Orcish armour rather than the unseemly skull-festooned ensemble the Bretons seemed to like.

“Eola! We got your message – well, sorta, the boss and Nepos are still decoding it. What's up – oh. Not you people again, we told you, we don't worship Talos round here... wait. What's with the kid – you're not kidding.”

“Borkul,” the woman said cheerfully. “We've got guests. Here to see the King, seeing as Liriel's not here.”

“I bet,” Borkul said faintly. “Right you lot, form an honour guard, I'll walk with the Princess here. Let's get these distinguished guests inside, shall we?”

Princess – Elenwen had mentioned a daughter from a previous marriage, one old enough to be married herself. This must be her, and while Sabrinda wasn't great with human ages, this one looked like a young-ish, quite capable warrior with an aura of magic to her. So this was the heir to the throne. One to watch, clearly. She wondered where the husband was. Was it the Orc perhaps? Possibly – she'd not thought even humans would stoop to bedding Orcs, but this place was barbaric even by human standards, and those were base enough.

The ReachGuards with the Orc fanned out to surround the Thalmor party and Sabrinda took a deep breath, reminding herself they were between wars, not enemies right now, no need to panic despite the fact the last time she'd had this many humans this close had been during the First War, in battle with arrows and magic flying everywhere, her own carving through the enemy ranks as she rained fiery death down on screaming Imperials then raised the corpses.

Meryndor's hand on her arm and Sabrinda came back to herself, grounded as always by her beloved husband's touch – four hundred years since they'd met and she couldn't imagine life without him now. Maybe she was the decorated war hero, but he was the one who reminded her why she fought in the first place.

“Are you all right?” he whispered in her ear.

“I'll have to be,” Sabrinda whispered back. “But thank you, love.”

She squeezed his hand and together they entered the Keep. Inside it was bigger than Sabrinda could ever have imagined, huge hallways carved into the rock itself and more ReachGuard on watch under the silver banners with the red eagle emblazoned on them, not entirely dissimilar to the blue and gold eagle flags of the Aldmeri Dominion. But this wild land was not Alinor and its barbarous natives were not Altmer.

Deeper in the main passage led, guards standing to attention as they passed by and then Sabrinda felt it. A long, slow uncurling of magicka, a mage's magicka field let go, slowly and casually flowing out, filling the Keep, and if Sabrinda had thought this place wild before, now she knew it was completely lacking in manners. Honestly, no Altmer of any age over forty-five had any business letting their magicka go like that, half the city would sense it, it was just vulgar to advertise one's power so broadly, particularly if you had the bad luck or ill wit to be stronger than one's social superiors. Whoever this was must be particularly ill-bred – magically formidable perhaps, but in no way anyone she wanted to associate with.

“Mamma!” Ancalime gasped. “Mamma, someone just let their magicka go, I can feel it, where are they? Are they in trouble?”

“They should be, but I daresay that's for their King to judge,” Sabrinda sniffed. “Don't think that means you can do it, Ancalime. You keep yours under control like I've been teaching you.”

“Yes Mamma,” Ancalime said softly. Sabrinda patted her on the back, feeling rather proud of her youngest. Gentle, docile, probably the best-behaved out of all three of her children – Haldyn had thrown tantrums and answered back constantly, while Liriel always had to ask why. Sabrinda knew that curiosity of hers would get her in trouble one of these days, and look how things had turned out.

“Sab,” Meryndor said quietly. “Sab, I think that mage _is_ the King.”

He was looking up ahead to where a steep set of stairs led up to a balcony where various Orc and Reachman servants could be seen going about their business... and in the middle was another set of steps leading up to a throne – and it was the source of the magicka. Steeling herself, Sabrinda stepped forward, following the Reach-Princess as she went to address her father.

“Da, we have visitors,” the young Breton announced cheerfully. “They've come all the way from Alinor, look!”

“I know, Cicero told me... eventually,” the man on the throne growled and as the Princess stepped aside, Sabrinda got her first look at the monster who'd corrupted her little girl.

He was getting to his feet, dressed in blue and gold robes that reminded Sabrinda of a fancier version of her own, a circlet on his head and a red-gold necklace similar to his daughter's round his neck. Silver braided hair down to his shoulders, bearded like most of the men she'd seen so far, although less facial hair than most. He was standing on the steps leading up to his throne, arms folded, and Sabrinda had the feeling he was waiting for her to come to him. But what struck her the most were the eyes – silver-grey eyes that seemed to stare right into you, and although he probably was a fraction of her age, Sabrinda had a feeling he'd packed a lot in to the few years he'd had. She could certainly imagine him facing down an Oblivion gate without fear, shouting for his soldiers to do likewise. 

Not that she admired him. Of course not, the man was a monster who ruled over animals, but it would be wise to respect the magic if nothing else. This one had power.

“Did you get their names, daughter?” he said casually, glancing over at the Reach-Princess.

“Afraid not, Da. They never asked for mine, you see,” she said, shrugging. The King of the Reach rolled his eyes and turned back to her.

“You'll have to forgive my daughter, I'm still trying to educate Eola in the finer points of receiving visiting dignitaries,” he said, actually daring to smile. “Madanach, King of the Reach, at your service. I'm afraid I'll have to ask your names, Justiciar.”

Sabrinda was loath to give him any such thing, but she supposed she might as well tell him. In a society where blood ties took a second place to merit and family names didn't officially exist, first name terms were usually the only terms to be on.

“My name is Sabrinda. This is my husband Meryndor. We're looking for our elder daughter Liriel. They tell me she lives here.”

Not a flicker of surprise on Madanach's face and she guessed the odd court fool that had accompanied Princess Eola had warned him they were here.

“She does, but she's not in the city right now, I'm afraid. She's a celebrated national hero, she travels a lot. I'm sure she'll be back soon, in fact I've taken the liberty of asking my steward to arrange accommodation for you. You can make yourselves at home until she gets back.”

He was still staring at her, not showing a hint of anything other than simply being a king welcoming unexpected visitors. No mention of what he'd done with their daughter... and then his eyes slid over Ancalime, still clutching at her mother's hand and that did get a reaction. Surprise, a raised eyebrow, and then he actually stepped off the dais, dropping to his knees and only wincing slightly before smiling at the child.

“Hello there, cariad,” he said gently. “I didn't get your name.”

“Don't answer him, Ancalime,” Sabrinda snapped, forcing back the hate and fury and urge to tear him apart. He'd already charmed one daughter away from her people, he was not doing the same to her innocent little Aedra girl.

“Ancalime,” Madanach repeated, still smiling and ignoring Sabrinda completely. “Is that your name, hmm? You don't need to be afraid, no one's going to hurt you here. No one hurts anyone in my Keep unless I tell them to and I only do that to people who've been bad.”

Ancalime inched closer to her mother, hiding her face with her hair and barely peeping out at Madanach.

“'m not s'posed to talk to str'ngers,” she whispered, barely audible.

“I'm not a stranger, I'm a friend,” Madanach replied, still smiling. “I know your sister, you know. Liriel's here all the time.”

That did get Ancalime's attention, and she perked up, smiling a little.

“Really?” she whispered. 

“Really,” Madanach said, and Sabrinda decided that was it, they were getting out of here, getting Ancalime away from all these humans. By the Eight, she should have left the girl in Alinor, Khajiit and Bosmer servants were still better than all these wretched humans.

“Ancalime, children should be seen and not heard,” Sabrinda snapped. “Now, these accommodations, where are they? I trust they're suitable for people of our standing.”

Madanach slowly stood up and when he raised his eyes to hers, Sabrinda felt a little prickle of fear at the expression in them.

“The house in question is owned by Liriel, she always seemed to find it acceptable,” he said coldly. “Uaile here will be residing there as your personal assistant while you are here, and I've arranged beds in the barracks for your guards. There's a children's room for Ancalime. I'll be sure to send Liriel to you as soon as she returns. She's on her way back.”

Sabrinda glanced at Uaile, a young Reachwoman with yellow eyes and silver hair, a combination not seen often on humans but quite common in Altmer. There was something of an aura of magic to her as well, muted and reined in but definitely there. While she was at least wearing standard servant dress rather than that awful fur get-up, Sabrinda had the feeling she wasn't normally any kind of domestic servant. There to keep watch, no doubt.

“Fine,” Sabrinda said through gritted teeth. “Show me to this house. Ancalime, come on.” The girl was staring at the ridiculous court fool who'd just come slinking back, laden down with weapons, books, a sackful of potions and clothes and who knew what else and slipped off into the shadows, whistling to himself. Sabrinda grabbed her arm and hauled her out, following in Uaile's wake. The sooner she got out of this place the better. Truly she wished she'd never come... but Liriel had given her no choice. 

So wrapped up in her rage was Sabrinda that she didn't even notice Ancalime staring over her shoulder at the Reach-King, or the smile and wave the two exchanged. Ancalime turned away and hid her face with her hair, but the smile didn't fade. A human had been nice to her! Not just any human but the King of the city! He had a crown and everything and some fancy robes. And he knew Liriel, he knew her sister! He could tell Ancalime stories about her! No one told Ancalime anything about Liriel lately, not what she'd actually done. Only that she'd done something bad.

Ancalime missed her sister more than words could say, and not even being able to talk to her parents about Liriel lately was weighing on her. But King Madanach might want to talk, and he'd been nice. Children weren't really supposed to talk to strange adults, or talk while the adults were speaking... but Madanach wasn't a stranger now, and if her parents weren't around...

Hiding her face and keeping quiet, Ancalime began to plot.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Madanach watched them go, unable to resist smiling at little Ancalime as she looked over her shoulder, waving goodbye before turning back before her parents noticed. Liriel had a little sister! She'd never said she had a little sister! A little Altmer – he'd never seen a child Altmer although he supposed they had to exist. 

“I didn't know Liriel had a sister!” That was Nepos emerging from the shadows, looking as amazed as Madanach felt. “Bless her, she's the sweetest little thing!”

“I know, did you see her ears!” Madanach gasped. “They're too big for her head and it shouldn't be cute _but it is!_ And her tiny little snub nose and the _freckles!_ ”

“Oh my actual gods,” and that was Eola, looking faintly appalled. “Can you hear yourselves right now? You're as bad as the rest of the city! So she's a child Altmer, so what?”

Ah yes, Eola's famous parental instincts shining through. Exactly like her mother sometimes. 

“She was cute,” said Madanach firmly. “And Altmer don't have that many children, they certainly don't take them abroad very often, do you know how rare it is to see a child Altmer? I know I never have.”

“You're the King of the Reach!” Eola cried, exasperated. “The Scourge of the Nords, the Murderer of Markarth, King in Rags as was, Red Eagle's Heir! A grown man who turned sixty last year, and here you and Nepos both are, losing it over a small child. Borkul, tell him.”

“I'm staying out of this,” Borkul muttered. Then he did grin a bit. “But the ears thing is cute, you get it in Orc kids as well.”

“See!” Madanach said, vindicated. “Even Borkul thinks she's cute.”

“ _Father,_ ” Eola sighed, hand over her face. “Can we possibly get back to the more pressing matter of _Liriel's Ma_ being in the city? And that she makes my ma look like a shining beacon of generosity and compassion? And that I imagine she knows damn well you've seduced and defiled her daughter.”

“Her father certainly does,” Borkul said, smirking. “He was giving you some hard looks, boss. Wouldn't want to be in your shoes.”

“He didn't say much,” Madanach said thoughtfully. He didn't think Meryndor was a warrior – a merchant from what Madanach had heard, capable of simple illusions to entertain children, and a dab hand at Restoration from all the times he'd had to deal with his children's injuries – but not the Destruction mage his daughter was. All the same, it didn't pay to antagonise his father-in-law. Even if Sabrinda did appear to be de facto head of the family – in public at least.

“No, but I daresay it's ingrained into all Altmer to defer to members of the Thalmor, even when they marry one,” Nepos said thoughtfully. “So he lets his wife take the lead in public, but I wouldn't be at all surprised if she later seeks his counsel in private. Liriel's a very loving wife and mother despite very little previous romantic experience – she learnt how to be that way from somewhere, and it was probably her own parents' marriage.”

Of course she had, Liriel was a starry-eyed romantic despite being Listener of the Dark Brotherhood, a skilled thief and trafficker with more than one Daedra. Children of loveless or abusive marriages did not end up like that – well, look at Eola for proof of that. It also explained where Liriel's skill with children came from – she'd had practice with her baby sister, had probably imagined Ancalime's face when she first met Sissel and Lucia. Much about his wife was rapidly becoming clear on meeting her parents.

“So now what,” Madanach said quietly. “I know they're her parents, they know I'm her husband, we all know we know that. What do I do next? I can't avoid the issue forever.”

“Where's Liriel?” Eola asked. “She needs to be here, last thing she needs is to get back and find you all at each other's throats. Once she's back we can start planning, or at least make a few things clear to them.”

Madanach closed his eyes and focused, reaching out to his wife, seeking her out. Back in the Reach, not far away, yes she'd missed him too, she was sending reassurance his way. Here in an hour or two maybe? Good. Madanach could cope with Nord armies, fire-breathing dragons, Daedric shrines and assassination death cults. What he couldn't deal with were his in-laws. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

“So that's Madanach,” Sabrinda said, lying back on the double bed that was presumably once their elder daughter's, and what she might have done in that bed, Sabrinda didn't want to think about. At least the marriage had most likely been consummated at the Keep. That was if Liriel had retained her maidenhood until the ceremony and frankly Sabrinda was by no means convinced that was the case. “He's older than I expected.”

“Older?” Meryndor snapped. He'd not stopped pacing since he'd got to the house, distressed and furious after meeting his son-in-law for the first time. “He's got silver hair! Wrinkles around the eyes! I was expecting a young man, or at least someone in the three hundreds or whatever the human equivalent is. As it is, I'm not convinced that if he was a mer, he wouldn't be older than me! What was she thinking, Sab?”

Sabrinda closed her eyes, trying to work that one out for herself. “I don't know, Meryn,” she sighed. “I honestly don't. She never even seemed interested in actual men back home. She read all those romance novels, but you remember all those dances we took her to, all those eligible men we introduced her to? Not a flicker of interest in anyone. All she cared about was her books and her spells and her pony. Now look at her.”

“I know, I always thought she'd stay single forever,” Meryndor said softly, one hand resting on the back of the door, and he looked awful, far worse than Sabrinda felt. Now she'd got a better grasp of the situation, she actually felt quite calm, her strategic mind kicking in and analysing the situation, looking for vulnerabilities. Whereas Meryndor always had been the more emotional of the two of them, much like his daughter. He and Liriel had always been close. “Honestly, I don't think I'd have minded that, having my little girl around forever. But she had her heart set on travelling.”

She had, and Sabrinda remembered the arguments, Meryndor wanting to know why she needed to go to Cyrodiil, they had all the best magical schools in Tamriel right there in Alinor. Liriel had insisted she needed to broaden her horizons, learn more about the history and the latest magical research that might not have made it to Alinor yet, and what about all the Ayleid ruins in Cyrodiil? Meryndor had put his foot down and said no, and Liriel had shouted and there'd been arguments and tears until it ended with the two of them hugging and crying and Meryndor admitting he just didn't want her to go, he'd miss her. She'd told him she'd miss him too, but she couldn't stay in Alinor forever. Finally Meryndor had turned to her.

“Just let the girl go if she wants to that much,” Sabrinda had sighed. “I'm sure I can talk a few people into getting her a visa. Cyrodiil wasn't so bad... when we weren't having to subdue the place anyway.” With any luck, Liriel would suffer from homesickness and be back in months. But she hadn't. Months had turned into years and the letters home had got ever fewer and then stopped altogether. Sabrinda had contacted her Embassy colleagues in Cyrodiil, and all they'd been able to tell her was that there'd been an incident in Bruma, some human had allegedly tried to grope her in a tavern and Liriel had slit his throat and fled the city in a panic, killing about ten guards in the process with her Destruction magic and raising a few to cover her escape. No one had seen her since. Sabrinda had only just been able to talk Meryndor out of chasing after her, insisting the Cyrodiil Thalmor Ambassador would find her. It didn't occur to either of them Liriel would flee over Pale Pass into Skyrim, not with winter on its way, not with the war just having broken out, not with the border being closed to civilians. She'd never thought to write to Elenwen and ask her to look for her – other than the College of Winterhold, Skyrim wasn't known for its magical heritage.

Sabrinda was regretting not having looked earlier. But as it was, it was too late now. She just had to work with what she had.

“Wealth and power, it must be,” Sabrinda sighed. “It's clearly turned her head. It can't be lust, he's not only old, he's shorter than us!”

“Dammit Sab, that is not like her!” Meryndor snapped. “You know what she's like, she used to read romances and fairytales and dream of a handsome prince to sweep her off her feet, praying to Mara every night. She'd no more marry for money than sell herself on the street! She doesn't care about coin, she's always had it! Anyway, you heard Elenwen, this Madanach wasn't rich when she met him! Little better than a bandit leader, apparently. She was the one who negotiated the treaty that put him in power!”

“Of course she did,” Sabrinda sighed. “She wanted a handsome prince, so she got them to make her lover king. And as for the power... Meryn, you felt his magicka earlier. The man is an arrogant barbarian, but he is a talented mage. She's clearly one of those mer who can't resist strong magicka. Not unlike someone else I know.” A teasing note at this point, and while Sabrinda was still furious at Liriel, part of her could see the funny side, or the irony at least. Meryndor had often said that he'd found Sabrinda attractive at first sight, from the moment he'd first laid eyes on her at a high-class party where she'd been one of the guards providing security for the Thalmor host, but the moment he'd realised he had to have her was a year later at another such party when a Dark Brotherhood assassin had tried to kill the host's husband, only being prevented by another guard getting in the way. Said guard had been Sabrinda's best friend, and Sabrinda had gone berserk, destroying the hapless assassin in a magical display that Meryndor had never seen the like of before and utterly forgetting to shield any of her magicka in the process. He'd seen her in her full power, seen she was a very talented mage indeed, felt the magicka rising throughout the room and just wanted to drown in it forever. The courtship had started the next day, Meryndor not caring he was the son of one of the city's wealthiest merchant families and she was just a Thalmor soldier from an ordinary working family. Nothing had mattered except that he had to have her, needed her like the air he breathed, and as an only child of older parents, his family had given in and approved the match. She'd not expected anyone from that background to even look twice at her, but after thirty years she'd finally begun to believe it and twenty years after that, they were finally married. A perfectly respectable courtship leading to a happy Altmer marriage.

Liriel, if the stories were to be believed, had met Madanach within weeks of arriving in Skyrim, and a few months later he was king, Skyrim's political landscape was transformed and Liriel was his official betrothed. Close to a year later, they'd got married. That had been six months ago.

It went against everything she and Meryndor had taught their daughter, but Sabrinda had felt Madanach's magic for herself, and unless he'd bewitched her somehow (she was murdering him personally if that was the case, diplomacy be damned) all she could think was that Liriel's damned sentimentality and a weakness for strong magic had taken over and she'd lost her head completely. This Madanach could certainly be charming when he wanted – he'd been courteous if wary, and then he'd started talking to Ancalime. What sort of culture encouraged talking to strangers' children when their parents were right there, Sabrinda had no idea. Altmer children, while treasured and doted on by their families and indeed highly valued by society at large, were simultaneously expected to remain good and quiet when outside their own homes, not interacting with strange adults until they'd learned to behave like one themselves. The relative scarcity of Altmer children meant most adult Altmer had little idea how to react to them, so they were encouraged to behave like grown-ups as soon as possible. Unheard of to address an unrelated child _on their level_. And yet Madanach had done just that to Ancalime, and the filthy look he'd given her when she'd intervened... As if he thought she was a terrible parent or something.

Meryndor finally joined her on the bed, collapsing on it next to her.

“What if she really loves him?” he whispered, face drawn and hollow and that hurt to see, her warm and cheerful husband reduced to this. Sabrinda drew closer, wrapping her arms around him.

“She can't possibly love him yet, it took me two decades to make my mind up and another to finally believe you felt the same and what we had was real,” Sabrinda told him, brushing his hair back and placing her forehead to his. “We have had four hundred years, three children, a lifetime. What is this but her passions running away with her, losing herself to one of her fancies of being queen of an entire kingdom with their powerful mage king adoring her? We will speak with her and make her see reason, make her realise she can never have what we have with someone who will be dead in two decades. Then we will take her home and in fifty years, she'll be ready to find someone who can be with her her whole life.”

Meryndor reached for her, clutching her to him as he rested his head on her shoulder, a little sob coming from him.

“It is too late, meleth, they're wed,” he whispered. “He took my baby girl's innocence, Sabby!”

If the reports Sabrinda had seen about her daughter's escape from Bruma had been even close to accurate, Liriel's innocence in at least some respects had gone well before her arrival in Skyrim, but men were always a bit sentimental about these things. 

“I know, love,” Sabrinda whispered. “I know. But it does not mean her life is ruined.”

“He stole my daughter,” Meryndor repeated. “My beautiful little Liri-bella. He seduced her away and she didn't even invite me to the wedding!”

“Meryn,” Sabrinda whispered, placing a kiss on his forehead. “Meryn, you are not an old mer, you will live to see her second, I am sure of it.”

“Not the same,” Meryndor breathed. “It's never the same. If you died, I could never even think of being with anyone else. I'd mourn you forever, Sabby.”

“Meryn, you old romantic,” Sabrinda whispered, tilting his head up to kiss him on the lips this time. “Come on, meleth. I hate seeing you like this. Let's at least wait until she arrives before we give up, yes?”

Meryndor didn't answer. He just took her face in his hands and kissed her for all he was worth, and if he was the rock that kept her grounded, she was the one who made him feel safe. Losing himself in his wife's embrace, Meryndor rolled on to his back and pulled her on top of him. Sabrinda let out a muffled squeal but didn't object, reaching down to unfasten his clothes. Her husband needed her. Who was she to deny him?

~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Ancalime tiptoed out of the room, glancing about. All the luggage had been brought up, the guards had been escorted to the barracks by that Uaile, and her parents had disappeared into their room with the door closed. Ancalime knew what that meant – sort of. It mean husband and wife time, Mara's special gift to married couples that blessed their family with love and happiness and sometimes more children. At least, that was how Daddy had explained it to her. He'd not said anything about what actually happened, only that Mamma would tell her when she got older. Frustrating but Ancalime did know one thing – it'd be a while before anyone saw them again, which was perfect for what she had in mind.

Moving as quietly as possible, Ancalime made for the front door, cracking it open and peering out at Markarth in the sunshine. This house was really high up, with a lot of steps, and she could see half the city – the winding passageways and the stream that poured through the street, the market stalls, the tavern with its creepy sign with the old witch on the front, the gatehouse, the Temple of Dibella on the central crag and at the far end, she could just about see Understone Keep rising in the distance. 

Mamma and Daddy didn't like this city very much – Mamma had been scared of the teleportal gate and Daddy had looked angry since visiting the King – but Ancalime thought it was really pretty. It looked like it was growing out of the mountain and the waterfalls were pretty and its king was clearly a nice man. So while her parents were busy, she was going exploring. She probably wouldn't get another chance.

“Oh, and if I spy a singing biiiird, I'll snap its neck before it's heard!”

Ancalime stopped as she made her way down the steps. She didn't know who was singing but he sounded... odd. Although maybe lots of humans liked to sing about hurting birds.

She turned the corner and gasped. Sitting on one of the ledges was the court fool she'd seen earlier, the one who'd thought her mother was someone he knew, and who Ancalime had seen in the Keep carrying a load of rather valuable things around. He was wearing his fool's clothes, kicking his heels and singing to himself, not a care in the world. Ancalime had never met a proper court jester before. They'd had them in Alinor back in the old days, but not since the Thalmor took over. Haldyn said he'd seen one once, as a boy, but Ancalime was a bit suspicious. Her older brother liked to tell tall stories to his sisters and laugh when they believed them. Liriel had told her to never entirely believe his stories unless she'd asked Mamma and Daddy first.

Ancalime missed her big sister horribly. But this city was her sister's home now, and it occurred to her that maybe, just maybe, the court fool had mistaken Mamma for Liriel. 

“Oh, and if I see a sneaking elf, it won't be good for the dear child's health!” the jester cackled before his head swivelled to look at her, dark eyes shining and his lips pulled back into a grin. Ancalime gasped, beginning to wonder if this was a good idea... but it was too late now. He'd seen her and had skipped over, kneeling next to her, still grinning.

“Hello, dear little child!” he cooed. “Don't be afraid, humble Cicero doesn't mean you any harm!”

“Is that you?” Ancalime said nervously. She thought he was referring to himself but couldn't be sure. Cicero giggled, clapping his hands.

“Yes, yes! The little elf is clever, she is! Yes, you see humble Cicero before you. Cicero knows who you are, sweet child. You are the sister of the Listener, you are!”

“Sister of the Listener?” Ancalime said, confused. Cicero glanced around, narrowing his eyes.

“Foolish Cicero has said too much. But you are the sister of Liriel, aren't you. You know her. You look like her. And those others, those are her... parents.”

“You know Liriel!” Ancalime cried. She'd been right! He did know her sister, he did! “What's she like? Did she learn magic? All the magic? Does she have a magic castle? And a pony? She had to leave hers behind...”

“Yes, oh yes!” Cicero giggled. “She knows spells, many spells. More than she even knew existed! She can control dragons and the weather and she can _breathe fire!_ Cicero wishes he could breathe fire. But he can't. He's tried, you know. Liriel says to learn a Shout, you must unlock its meaning through constant practice. So Cicero keeps trying, but he still can't breathe fire.” He looked at Ancalime sadly, pouting as if this was the most tragic thing to ever happen to him. Ancalime felt sorry for him. That was if he wasn't making it up, of course.

“Mages can cast fire from their hands, like Mamma,” Ancalime said. “You could learn that?”

Cicero smiled sadly. “It is not the same. But Cicero thanks you.” He got up, holding out his hand. “Come, come, sit with Cicero! Cicero shall tell you stories of your sister, all the ones he's allowed to speak of anyway. She doesn't exactly have a magic castle, but she has lots of houses and she's Archmage of an entire College! And she has a big black horse with red eyes called Shadowmere and he is the fastest horse in Skyrim and the Reach!”

Ancalime gasped and excited beyond all measure, trotted after him, taking a seat on the ledge beside him and listening as Cicero proceeded to tell an edited version of How the Dragonborn Killed A God and Won A War. And if Ancalime had adored her sister before, now she truly believed she was magic.

~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

“Oh, and if I chance to see a cat, I'll feed its corpse to my pet rat!”

“Heeee! Oh that is good, very good, sweet child! You will be as good as Cicero soon!”

Ancalime blushed and giggled. She liked Cicero. He was funny! Very very odd, but funny. Liked to talk about sneaking and stabbing a lot, claiming these were Very Important Things for a young child to learn. Ancalime was fairly sure that sneaking up on someone and stabbing them before they knew you were there was illegal, but when she'd pointed that out to Cicero, he'd just cackled. He was a very strange man... but funny. 

“Cicero, Cicero, is it true?”

Ancalime looked up, panicking a little as she saw four other humans bear down on her. Not least because they weren't taller than her. They were her height or shorter. Children, one boy with pale skin and dark hair, the tallest of the four, then three girls, one dark-skinned Redguard girl, one olive-skinned girl with ash-coloured hair and dark eyes like Cicero's, and in the lead, one little girl with blonde hair, pale skin and round cheeks.

“Hello little Sissel!” Cicero cooed. “Hello children!”

All four children had stopped dead on seeing Ancalime, and she shifted nearer to Cicero for comfort. 

“Who's that?” the Redguard girl asked. “Is she an Altmer? Like Queen Liriel?”

“Just like Queen Liriel,” the boy whispered, looking Ancalime over. “Wow, it really is true.”

The other two girls had stepped forward, both staring at Ancalime in amazement. 

“You're related to Mama, aren't you?” the little one who Cicero had called Sissel asked. “Are you her sister? Or... does she have other children?” Sissel looked a little bit betrayed at the mere idea.

“Of course not, Sissel,” the other girl sighed. “Mama wasn't even married before she came here and met Da. I think that's her little sister.”

Ancalime scratched her head, trying to work this out. The girls were sisters – and their mother was related to her? Her older sister apparently. Liriel. _Queen_ Liriel? As in... married to the King.

No wonder her parents were angry.

“But Liriel can't be married to a human!” Ancalime cried. “That's illegal! Mer are meant to marry other mer!”

“You want to tell King Madanach that?” the boy laughed. “He seems to think Liriel's his queen and that it's all perfectly legal.”

“It is legal!” Sissel said, glaring. “Da's King, he said it was all official and that he was Mama's husband and now our Da too and we were a family!”

Family... Liriel had children, like Haldyn was going to have with Naarie. Except these children weren't little babies, they could walk and talk and everything and... Ancalime remembered her father telling her that it was very bad indeed to walk around telling humans elves were better than them, and realised that Liriel might be cross if Ancalime was mean to her children.

“But you're not elves,” Ancalime said, confused. “Why would Liriel be your mother?”

“Because our real parents died,” the one who wasn't Sissel explained patiently. “And we didn't have anywhere to go. I was living on the streets when Liriel found me. She gave me money and food and one day when she finally got a house, she said she could adopt me if I wanted. So I said yes and she's looked after me ever since. Same with Sissel when her parents died. And then she married Da and now we all live here. I'm Lucia, what's your name?”

“Ancalime,” Ancalime told her, and while she was still a bit confused and worried about it all, she could also quite see that it was very wrong for a little girl to end up not having a house any more after her mamma and daddy died. Really, that was very kind of Liriel to look after two strange humans like that. Maybe that was why King Madanach had married her, he'd felt sorry for them too and wanted them to have a father, and you had to be married for that to happen. Mamma had always been very firm that you had to be married to have children.

“Ancalime,” Lucia repeated, smiling. “That's a pretty name! All the elven names are. I wish I was an elf sometimes. But Mama says she still thinks I'm pretty and she loves me anyway and not to worry about being an elf. Did you want to play a game?”

That had Ancalime's attention at once. She hardly ever got to play games with other people, just the servants sometimes. When Liriel had lived at home, they'd often played together, but that had been a long time ago. Being able to play with other children?

Mamma wouldn't be pleased, but Mamma wasn't here. Of course Ancalime wanted to.

“Yes!” she squealed. “What are we playing?”

“Tag!” Sissel laughed. “One of us is It, and has to chase after the others – when they catch one of us, then they're It instead. Tag, you're It!” She tapped Ancalime's wrist and all four of them promptly ran off in different directions.

“But... what?” Ancalime whispered, confused. Cicero patted her on the shoulder, grinning. 

“You are It, dear child. Do not worry, do not fear. Being the one on the hunt is fun!”

Ancalime wasn't nearly so sure about that, but it seemed the only way to not be It was to catch one of the other children. Well, Ancalime could manage that. Leaving Cicero behind, she chased off after the Redguard. It was certainly one way of exploring the city.

Cicero watched, smile never fading and as soon as the children had dispersed, someone else joined him. His lovely wife, pretty Eola.

“Hello lovely wife!” Cicero cooed at her. “Cicero has been entertaining the sister of the Listener and now she is playing with the other little children! Aren't they delightful?”

“Adorable,” Eola said, smirking. “I thought you seemed pleased about something. I hope you've not been telling her scary stories that will give her nightmares.”

“Me?” Cicero said, looking personally wounded at any such insinuation. “Cicero would never do that! Cicero loves children! No, no, Cicero has merely been telling the sweet little elf-child of her heroic sister's exploits. The ones he is allowed to talk about publicly anyway.”

Eola smiled and cuddled him. Cicero might be a fool, but he had some discretion at least. The last thing Eola needed was the whole Namira worship thing coming to light. 

“Sweetie,” Eola said. “Would you be at all upset if we postponed the honeymoon for a bit? I mean, I think I should probably be here for now, I think I need to support my Da while his in-laws are in town.”

If she'd thought Cicero would have a problem with that, she'd been wrong. Cicero's grin broadened.

“Oh, of course, of course! Cicero would never dream of abandoning his sweet Listener to deal with her other family on her own.”

“Good,” Eola sighed, tightening her grip on Cicero. “Come on, let's get back to the Keep.” Eola had a feeling that if things went badly, Cicero might come in handy...


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A missing Ancalime, out there in a city full of strange humans, sends Sabrinda and Meryndor into a complete panic. But it turns out Ancalime is not the child to worry about, because when Liriel Dragonborn comes home, everything changes and the fragile detente is shattered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here it comes, the bit you've all been waiting for, the part where Liriel comes home and meets her parents again, the evidence of her new life all around her. Goes about as well as you'd expect.
> 
> Garra-Lann means Knife That Laughs or Laughing Dagger, and is the nickname the Forsworn gave Cicero. Bachgen means little one. The Rhanic translation of the sign is largely the same as the Tamrielic, except the Rhanic has 'here be Daedra' added to the end, on the grounds that Reachmen can cope with knowing this but outsiders... not so much.

Much later, and Sabrinda and Meryndor emerged from their room to a very quiet house. Clearly Ancalime must be reading or something. Uaile had returned and was sitting at the main dining table, book in hand.

“Good afternoon, Justiciar,” Uaile said archly, one eyebrow raised. “I thought you and Sirrah Meryndor were going to be in there all night.”

Sabrinda narrowed her eyes but did not rise to the bait. A servant but only on loan to her and therefore disciplining the woman would be unwise. 

“We all have to eat, Uaile,” Sabrinda said tersely while Meryndor wandered off to Ancalime's room to check up on her. “Will you be cooking or do I have to do it?”

“I can make you something,” Uaile said calmly, laying her book aside. “I used to have to cook for old Nepos after all.”

That was something. Sabrinda could fling a meal together, but since getting married to a man with servants and also becoming a commanding officer in the Dominion's armies, Sabrinda had long since left anything resembling domestic duties behind her.

A door slammed and footsteps rang out as Meryndor raced out of the other room in a panic.

“She's not here. Ancalime's not in her room. Where is she??”

“She's gone?” Sabrinda whispered, feeling everything come to a standstill as she quietly began to panic. “What do you mean, gone? She's not hiding somewhere?”

“She's not in the house, I checked, I used Detect Life and everything, it's just the three of us!” Meryndor cried. “She's gone!”

Sabrinda wasted no time before rounding on Uaile, furious. “Where is she? How could someone get in here and take my daughter??”

Uaile slammed the book down, glaring. “No one has taken your daughter. She went outside, chatted to the Garra-Lann for a bit and was last seen playing some sort of game with the city's other children. I don't know what exactly, but it involved a lot of running around and squealing and she seemed quite happy so I left her to it. The ReachGuard are watching, if there'd been any trouble they'd have brought her home or fetched you, so she's most likely still out there having the time of her life. Why don't you go fetch her in like normal parents?”

“Oh sweet Aedra,” was all Meryndor said before tearing out of the house. Sabrinda had been tempted to make Uaile go find her but she had a feeling her husband was probably best suited to the job. Nevertheless, Sabrinda was sufficiently concerned to want to join him in the search.

“Your King will be hearing about this,” Sabrinda threatened, before chasing after her husband. Uaile just rolled her eyes and let them get on with it. Some parents were too overprotective by half.

~~~~~~~~~~~ 

“Where do you think she went,” Meryndor gasped as he emerged into Markarth in the late afternoon. “Gods, look at this city, she could be anywhere.”

“She was with other children,” Sabrinda said, lip curling. _Human_ children and that boded ill. Bad enough Liriel had essentially gone native. “Squealing, apparently. So follow their voices and you should find her. Kynareth help me, they're certainly loud enough.” She could hear a girl squealing at the other end of the city, and gods help her, all these years spent training Ancalime to be good and quiet like a good Altmer child should be, and the human children of Markarth looked set to undo all of it in a day. She should never have brought the girl here.

“Right,” Meryndor nodded, heading off in that direction – and then a shadow swooped overhead, wind whipping through the streets as it did so.

“What in Oblivion...” Meryndor began and Sabrinda went pale to see what it was. A dragon, had to be, a vast scaly lizard with wings swooping over the city, bronze scales gleaming in the sun. Below, the cries of “Dragon!” had gone up and the ReachGuard patrolling the streets had unhooked their bows, cast mage armour and starting sending arrows and magic flying its way as the townsfolk ran for cover.

“Everybody indoors, now!” the guards were shouting and the citizens were swiftly obeying. 

“Meryn, find her,” Sabrinda whispered, heart in her mouth as the beast breathed fire at one soldier who only just got her ward up in time. “Go on, go, I'll try and get its attention.” She cast her own mage armour and prepared to fight. No worse than a Dremora horde, right?

“All right. Just... be careful!” Meryndor turned back to her, kissed her passionately and then broke off, his own mage armour flaring into life and warding spells at the ready as he ran off in search of their daughter. Sabrinda shook her head, refocusing on the task in hand. She couldn't think of her husband and daughter out there at this thing's mercy. Just focus on getting it down. 

“You there, elf! Get under cover, we'll deal with this!” one nearby ReachGuard shouted at her. Sabrinda ignored him and sent twin fireballs at the beast, both striking it dead centre.

“Never mind. As you were, ma'am,” the guard said, bowing his head and returning his attention to the dragon. Sabrinda smiled grimly and switched to lightning spells. She was starting to enjoy this.

~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Meryndor darted through the streets, ignoring the ReachGuard snapping at him to get under cover as he reached ground level, correctly guessing the ReachGuard on the higher level would be easier targets for a dragon. Ancalime was a bright kid, if she was going to hide anywhere, it'd be down here, near water, right?

There was a house on the right, but a quick glance revealed the door had actually been welded shut with Destruction magic, and the sign on the front read “NO ENTRY BY ORDER OF THE KING” and underneath in what was presumably the local language “DIM ANSIO MYND LE HORDU Y BRENIN – ANSIO DAIDRAI”.

Daidrai? Meryndor hoped it didn't mean what he thought it did, but he had more pressing concerns. Such as finding his lost daughter, and she certainly hadn't taken shelter there. 

“Daddy!” 

Meryndor looked, Detect Life revealing a cluster of life forms hiding under a nearby bridge that turned out to be three children, one of which was his own.

“Cali, are you all right?” he gasped, kneeling next to her. “Come on, we need to get you home.”

“We can't, there's a dragon!” the ashen-haired girl next to Ancalime cried. “It might eat us. So we have to stay under cover until the ReachGuard have dealt with it. Adara and Skuli were right next to Adara's house when it turned up so they ran inside but we were here and there wasn't time so we hid.”

“Dragons can't get you if you're under here,” the smallest child, a round-faced girl with bright yellow hair announced cheerfully. “We know, Mama and Odahviing tested it. Odahviing's Mama's dragon friend, but don't worry, he's friendly.”

What sort of woman befriended dragons, much less introduced them to her small children, Meryndor had no idea. He assumed from the look of the girl that her parents were Nords, which would explain it. Everyone knew Nords had no sense of fear or self-preservation.

“Daddy, it's coming back, get in here!” Ancalime pleaded, terror in her eyes. Meryndor felt the wind on his back, the sky darkening and heedless of the water, he threw himself under the bridge just as dragon fire spewed down at them. Sure enough, the angle was wrong and the fire blazed harmlessly into the stream. It was close enough for Meryndor's liking.

“Are you all right?” he whispered, pulling Ancalime into his arms. She looked a bit scared but much less so now he was crouching under the stonework with her.

“Yes Daddy,” Ancalime whispered. “It's awfully big, isn't it!”

Big didn't even begin to sum it up. Concerted magical bombardment from the ReachGuard, not to mention repeated thunderbolts from where Sabrinda was based, didn't even seem to be scratching it. He could even see that odd court jester on the upper level, firing at it with some sort of mechanical contraption, something Dwemer perhaps, and next to him Princess Eola blasting her own magic at the dragon. Meryndor was no Destruction expert – he left that to his wife – but he could see some serious firepower on her part. Clearly this Eola was not your typical fairytale princess or cosseted noble-born child. All the same, he was surprised her husband wasn't with her. Maybe it was like with him and Sabrinda – she was the warrior, he was quite happy to be the more domestic one.

Another thunderbolt arched overhead, accompanied by a wave of magicka that was familiar from before. The King himself had come out to fight, and judging from the smell of ozone, he was at least as skilled with lightning magic as Sabrinda, if not more. 

“YOU COME TO MY CITY AND CAUSE TROUBLE, DOVAH?” Meryndor could hear Madanach roaring. “NOT TWICE, YOU WON'T! REACHGUARD TO ARMS!” There was a renewed barrage of magic and then Meryndor felt it, a wave of magic rolling out, making him want to get up and fight and destroy any enemy of Markarth, particularly that dragon menacing the city and all these poor, innocent people...

Meryndor shook his head and the feeling passed. All he intended to do was protect the innocent people presently clustered around him. But he recognised the spell although you'd have to be a skilled illusionist to actually cast it. Call To Arms, a call to all willing to fight for the caster, imbuing them with strength and determination and suicidal bravery, a key part of Reach battle strategy had Meryndor but known it. He knew enough to realise that Madanach's magical ability was stronger than he'd thought. 

“Wow,” Ancalime whispered. “What's that spell? It feels really nice! Can I go out and fight the dragon too, I know a few spells!”

“No!” Meryndor snapped, tightening his grip on her. “You're in enough trouble as it is, sneaking out like that! You just stay here until the King and his guards kill it.” What would happen if they lost the battle, he didn't like to think about, but the fact that the other two children didn't seem that scared and that there were clearly well-rehearsed plans in place for this eventuality reassured him a little. This had happened before clearly, and the city was still standing.

That this happened on a regular basis was less reassuring.

“Da said Mama would be back soon,” the ashen-haired girl said hopefully. “She can kill dragons easily.”

“Mama can kill anything!” the blonde girl added proudly. That did intrigue Meryndor. The girls didn't look similar enough to be sisters but he might be wrong.

“You're sisters?” he asked, studying them both carefully. About the same sort of size as Cali, but their actual ages were anyone's guess. He had a feeling the blonde one was younger though.

“Yes!” Ancalime said, smiling up at him. “That's Lucia and that's her sister Sissel. Except they didn't use to be sisters, they had other parents once but they died and then they got adopted so now they're sisters, and we were playing tag until we got tired and then we sat around and talked and now they're my friends, and Daddy, Daddy, guess what, their Mamma's -!”

“JOOR ZAH FRUL!”

Another wave of magicka rolled out across the city, slow and languid and definitely mer rather than human, in fact it reminded Meryndor of Sabrinda except it was fiercer somehow, tapping some power he couldn't even begin to fathom. 

Strange blue magic hit the dragon and it screamed, screamed as it writhed in the air, screamed as it crashed into the gully before them, howling in pain and Meryndor looked up, seeing a red-haired figure in some sort of brown mage robes taking off after the dragon. An elven figure with gold skin like his and mage armour flaring, just visible by the gates with fire blazing in her hands as she cast at the dragon, not stopping moving but just flinging fireball after fireball at it.

“Mama!” Sissel cried. “She came back, look!”

“She's the best,” Lucia whispered, awestruck and Meryndor had never quite seen any child look so adoringly at their parent. Said parent had now summoned bound swords in each hand and was now carving into the dragon's face, and that idiot court fool had produced two ebony daggers and launched himself on to the dragon's back.

“YOU DO NOT EAT MY LISTENER, DRAGON!”

“AFTER IT, GO HELP THE BRENHINA! AND TRY NOT TO HIT THE GARRA-LANN, I DON'T HAVE GRANDCHILDREN YET!”

Another thunderbolt arced overhead, smacking into the dragon's back and now the ReachGuard were swarming, dual-wielding swords and axes, and the magic wasn't letting up either. The dragon was bleeding freely now from dozens of wounds and the elven mage hadn't let up, seeming to instinctively know where the weak points were, those bound swords drawing blood with every strike. The little jester was also doing quite well, cheerfully stabbing and slashing away at the beast, and both King and Princess were sending impressive fire and lightning the beast's way. The King was standing barely feet away from his hiding place, hardly pausing for breath in between strikes, and it occurred to Meryndor that while older humans in general weren't terribly fearsome, older humans who'd carved a country for themselves out of hostile neighbouring provinces were probably an exception to that rule.

“Wow, he's nearly as good as Mamma,” Ancalime whispered, impressed. Said mother was sending in a few blasts of her own magic, and Meryndor was sure there was at least one reanimated ReachGuard corpse involved in this fight – honestly, what was Sabrinda thinking? He definitely did not want to have to explain corpse reanimation to Ancalime.

The dragon finally died, and the ReachGuard all lowered their weapons. Meryndor noticed Madanach finally relaxing, leaning against the nearby rock wall, clearly exhausted, and evidently not quite as invulnerable as he liked to make out. Sissel and Lucia had already wormed their way out, Sissel sprinting down to the gates while Lucia ran up to Madanach and flung her arms around him, which Meryndor didn't think was terribly appropriate but who was he to judge. Then it all became shockingly clear.

“Da, are you all right?” Lucia cried, sounding terrified.

“Of course I'm all right, I've been in worse battles than that, bachgen,” Madanach murmured as he cuddled her back. “Now what are you doing out here, shouldn't you have been inside hiding like we told you and your sister for when a dragon turns up?”

“There wasn't time, so we hid,” Lucia told him, still clinging on to him. “Da, you mustn't be out here fighting dragons, what if you die?”

“I'm not going to die, cariad,” Madanach soothed her, looking as if he was trying not to laugh. “Not for a good while yet. Your mother fights dragons too, a lot more than I do. Aren't you worried she'll die?”

Lucia actually shook her head. “Oh no, she's Dragonborn, it's her job. She's meant to. But you're not! And... and you're older than her. A lot older. You might... you might die.”

“I'm meant to guard and protect my kingdom, so it's safe for little girls like you. I can't hide in the Keep while my people are fighting and dying, can I?” Madanach murmured to her. “But I'll make sure I've got guards like Borkul and Dryston and Tynan and Duach and all the others, hmm? They'll keep me safe.”

“They'd better,” Lucia said fiercely. “Mama will be upset if you die and I'll miss you and who'll teach Sissel magic if you die?”

“I don't teach her a lot now, she's got a tutor for that,” Madanach laughed. “Come on, let's go and find your mother, I have things to talk to her about.”

Meryndor waited until they'd moved on before climbing out, brushing the water off as best he could and deciding Ancalime's dress was a complete loss. She didn't seem that bothered. She was too busy staring at the elven dragonslayer who was making her way up the path, currently kneeling as she cuddled two human children, kissing them once each and smiling as they both cried “Mama!” at her.

Meryndor would know her anywhere and he didn't know whether to cry or feel more proud of her than he ever had. 

She killed dragons. She had the magicka of a master mage. She had children, for Mara's sake, and those children clearly didn't think this was just a game, as far as they were concerned Liriel and this human she'd married were their parents. Madanach and Lucia had interacted like any father and daughter might... and that was something else that he didn't know whether to laugh or cry over. Technically he had grandchildren now... but his daughter was breaking his heart.

Daughter number two looked set to twist the knife further. She'd seen Sissel and Lucia cuddling their mother and she took advantage of her father's distraction to wriggle free.

“LIRIEL!” she shrieked, racing down the path, dodging past everyone, including a surprised Madanach, until she came face to face with her stunned sister.

“Cali?” Liriel whispered, barely able to believe her eyes. That looked like her baby sister, sounded like her but how in the Void had little Ancalime got to Markarth?

“Liriel, Liriel, I missed you, I missed you!” Ancalime cried, cuddling her. “Did you kill that dragon, did you? And you did magic, I saw you, lots of magic, you SHOUTED at the dragon and it crashed, what did you say? And you've got robes, fancy robes, wizard robes, did you do it, did you learn all the spells??”

“Not all of them, I'm still working on the Illusion school,” Liriel said faintly. “But I did kill the dragon – Cali, how did you get here, what are you even doing here, you never came all the way from Alinor on... your... own...”

Liriel's voice died as she looked up, simultaneously realising that there was really only one way Ancalime had got here... and seeing the evidence before her as she met her father's eyes, saw the heartbreak and disappointment all over his face and realised the game was up, he knew, he knew everything, and if he was here...

“Liriel!”

Oh sweet Mother, her real one was here. Liriel realised she'd take the mummified corpse of the Night Mother, who'd killed her blood children and ordered others sent to the Void on a regular basis over Justiciar Sabrinda any day.

Sabrinda was making her way down the steps from the upper levels, looking furious.

“What is this, Liriel?” Sabrinda said softly. “Aedra, it's true, isn't it? Everything Elenwen told me. You married a human and adopted... these.” She waved dismissively at Sissel and Lucia, and Liriel felt her blood start to boil, draconic nature rising, just as the dead dragon beside her was burning up and its soul rising... oh Sithis.

As Liriel got to her feet, her children clutched to her, staring her mother down, the dragon's soul boiled up out of it, magic swirling around Liriel and sinking into her, making her gasp as it happened, familiar dragon essence sinking in, and Liriel shook herself down as the soul became part of her. A memory came back of being curled up in bed with Madanach, him asking questions about how it actually worked, curious as ever about things magical, and it ended with him finally confessing the memory of her absorbing a soul never failed to get him aroused.

“It's all that power, all that dangerous essence of a dangerous beast, and you just slaughtered it and took it for yourself and... damn it woman, how can you expect a man to not want to bed you after that?” 

Madanach was standing behind her father, a little further up the hill, smiling a little and eyes staring straight at her, and she knew what he was thinking, could tell that he wanted to drag her into the nearest bedroom and tear her clothes off, falling into bed with her and having a powerful and dangerous dragonslayer riding him until they both passed out. Or possibly pinning said dangerous dragonslayer to the bed and watching her come while he took her hard, it depended on what sort of mood he was in. Difficult to tell, the Bond only told her so much and she wasn't sure if he even knew which he'd prefer.

In the sort of mood she was in right now, Liriel could quite happily claim him right here in front of everyone, nails digging in as she snarled he was hers, all hers, her chosen mate and no one was taking him from her, not even her parents. 

And as for Sissel and Lucia, they were her babies, her little dragons, and if her mother thought they could just be waved aside like they were some pet she'd brought home...

“I am the Queen of the Reach by marriage, and the mother of Sissel and Lucia here,” Liriel said coldly. “I am a slayer of dragons, saviour of the world, bringer of peace and if you think you can change any of that, you can think again, _Mother._ ”

Sissel gasped and Lucia snuggled closer to Liriel, both looking up at Sabrinda with wide eyes. They'd often wished for grandparents but she suspected they'd not imagined this.

Sabrinda's nostrils flared as she drew herself up to her full height, cold fury in her own eyes.

“I should never have let you leave Alinor,” she snapped. “Look at you, you look like some sort of... and you're queen of...” She gestured helplessly at the watching ReachGuard, not to mention Cicero still covered in dragon blood and Eola who'd been nuzzling at his cheek, licking it off him while he cooed at her, but had stopped on seeing Sabrinda talking.

“Girls,” said Liriel calmly, patting her daughters on the shoulder. “The Keep. Now.”

“Ohhh, but Mama...!”

“But we didn't do anything!”

“The _Keep,_ ” Liriel growled. “ _Now._ ”

Hung heads and sad eyes and pouting, but neither child argued with that tone of voice and Sissel and Lucia ran off. So impressive was that tone of voice that Ancalime actually started to follow... until Sabrinda caught her arm.

“Not you, Cali. Wait for me up in the house.”

“But Mamma...”

“In the _house! Now._ ”

“Yes Mamma,” Ancalime whispered, giving in and walking forlornly up the steps to Vlindrel Hall. Watching her, a few of the ReachGuard gave the little elf-child sympathetic looks but Ancalime kept her head down and kept walking. Liriel's heart went out to her baby sister. Her mother had always been firm with her children... but it took seeing her again, seeing her family after all this time, after everything that had happened, after looking after children of her own, to realise just how messed up her family was. How messed up _Alinor_ was.

“What do you expect me to do, Mother?” Liriel said, barely keeping her anger under control. “Tell Madanach I don't love him any more and want a divorce? Tell my babies I don't love them any more and can't be their mother? Go back to Alinor with you and be a good little Altmer wife to some Thalmor toadie?”

“You can come home with your people where you belong!” Sabrinda cried, frustrated.

“These are my people!” Liriel shouted back, indicating the surrounding crowd of ReachGuard and quite a few ordinary citizens who'd crept out now the fighting seemed to have stopped.

“They're not even elves!” Sabrinda cried.

“I don't care!” Liriel shouted. “Altmer aren't the only people worth bothering about, Mother. Who cares if we're descended from the Aedra? We're just mortals like everyone else – ow!”

Sabrinda had slapped Liriel hard, sending the Dragonborn reeling. She hadn't even planned it, it was just an instinctual reaction to having her people's heritage dismissed like that. And as soon as she'd done it, she realised it was a mistake, she hadn't meant to, she did love Liriel despite everything, that was why she was here, to get her back home before the Thalmor decided she was too dangerous to allow to live...

Except right now she had more pressing concerns, such as the fact every single member of the ReachGuard, and Princess Eola and that ridiculous court fool, had just cast mage armour and raised bow, sword and spell at her, Breton faces glaring at her in rage while her daughter rubbed a reddened cheek and just stared back in shock.

“Liriel, I'm sorry, I-” Sabrinda began, and then she felt the wave of magicka she'd felt earlier, Madanach's power unbound, not even an attempt to mute it this time as the King of the Reach cast mage armour and pushed his way past everyone else, including Meryndor.

“That's enough,” Madanach growled, eyes hard and cold, face twisted in rage, and everyone was standing back a little, even his own daughter looked a bit concerned, and Sabrinda began to realise that she'd just angered a very dangerous man.

“Reach-King, this... this is a family matter, perhaps best discussed in private,” Sabrinda began but Madanach didn't even seem to hear her.

“The penalty for striking a member of the Reach royal family is death,” Madanach said softly. “No one hurts my family, Sabrinda. _No one._ And Liriel is my family. Her daughters are my children and she is my beloved wife and Queen. You will not hurt her.”

“Sab!” Meryndor cried, appalled. “Sabby, no – Madanach, you can't hurt her, I won't let you – argh!”

Borkul had stepped in, grabbing Meryndor in a headlock and effortlessly holding the elf still. 

“What do you want me to do, boss?” Borkul asked calmly. “You want him shivving as well?”

“No!” Liriel cried out, reaching out in her father's direction, looking as if she was about to cry. “Please, Madanach, no, they're my parents, please.”

Madanach's eyes never left Sabrinda, expression never changing from murderously furious as he raised his hands and cast at his mother-in-law.

The paralysis spell hit her and she fell to the ground, Sabrinda the Thalmor Justiciar rendered helpless and bound. Madanach motioned to the nearest ReachGuard to deal with her.

“Take her to the cells,” he ordered. “In the light of her being blood-kin to my wife, I'm inclined to show clemency this time. Five hundred septim bounty, payable to my steward in the morning – court is closed for today. Borkul, you can let Meryndor go, he's done nothing wrong. Liriel... gods, Liriel, are you all right?”

He'd not spared Sabrinda a second glance once his guards were picking her up and carting her off. All his attention was on Liriel as he strode over to her, cupping her face in his hands.

“What have you done?” Liriel whispered, tears rolling down her cheeks. “Madanach, she's my mother!”

“Yes, which is why she's still breathing,” Madanach said softly, fingers caressing her cheeks. “Cariad, no one hurts you in front of me and goes unpunished. No one. You're my wife, my Davrha-Brenhina. What sort of message does it send out if I let people mistreat you, hmm?” He leaned closer, lips brushing her cheek.

“For years, Nords mistreated our women and we had no choice but to sit there and take it. It is not happening under my rule. Not to anyone, and most definitely not to you.”

Liriel closed her eyes, sobbing quietly and Madanach held her to him, not saying a word. He didn't have to, she could feel the worry and love and a twinge of guilt – good, so he should after _arresting her mother._ All the same, it was nice to see how everyone had reacted by immediately taking her side. She was Queen here, and her people loved her. Her husband loved her.

“My sister is going to be heartbroken,” she whispered. “My _father_ is going to be heartbroken – Sithis, where is he??” She looked up, seeing the crowd dispersing, apart from Cicero and Eola, who were having a hushed conversation which seemed to mostly be Cicero worrying about the penalty for striking a member of the Reach royal family being death.

“Non-consensually, he meant, don't worry, we're safe,” Eola murmured as she traced his lips. Cicero snuggled in to her, seeming to relax, cooing as he did.

“Did you see where my father went?” Liriel whispered, looking around. He was nowhere to be seen and that worried her. Just remembering the look on his face, as if she'd personally betrayed him, was breaking her heart, and given Madanach had just arrested his wife – Mara help her, would her father ever forgive her? “I should talk to him...”

“He went after your mother,” Madanach said quietly. “I imagine he's worrying about her. He's lucky Cidhna Mine's just a working commercial mine now, she'd have lasted about five minutes in there.”

“Don't!” Liriel cried, but given Liriel had not only survived Cidhna Mine, she'd befriended the prison king, escaped with and later married him, she was fairly certain her mother would have coped somehow too. “Oh my gods, Daddy will never forgive me for this.”

“He will, or he never loved you anyway,” Madanach murmured in her ear, nuzzling at the lobe. “I'm fairly certain he'll never forgive me, but I'm used to that.”

Liriel held on to him tighter, despair in her eyes. 

“What if I can't have you both?” she whispered, her voice hollow. “What if I have to choose between my parents and you? What if they disown me? I'll never see Cali again, she'll be heartbroken and oh gods, Daddy, I've already hurt him, I just know it.”

“Cariad, oh creenama, don't cry, don't, you still have me. You'll always have me,” Madanach whispered.

“For now,” Liriel said bitterly, and silence fell as Madanach recalled elven lifespans and what they meant in practice and promptly tightened his grip on a wife who was actually over twice his age in years, if about Eola's age developmentally.

“I love you,” Madanach said quietly, determined not to lose his wife to Alinor. “I love everything about you. I think you're beautiful, passionate, kind, caring, strong, powerful, dangerous, sexy... Liriel, please, can we go to bed and then can you never leave me? Ever?”

“I never will,” Liriel promised, feeling his love for her through the Bond of Matrimony, feeling the desire, the want... and the need, the silent terror of losing her that always made her want to hold him tighter. “ _Mi cari te siorad, ceilin._ ” A promise to love him always, and she knew she always would. Even though one day he'd leave her for good.

“ _Mi cari te, ceilhinama,_ ” Madanach whispered back. “ _Gyd holl ma creena._ ”

_I love you, wife of mine, with all my heart._ Liriel heard it, felt it, knew it, and not all her mother's anger or her father's disappointment would ever take this from her. It was breaking her heart, everything about this was tearing her apart, but she couldn't bring herself to let Madanach go. Not even if it meant her parents never spoke to her again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Liriel's words to Madanach at the end there are 'I love you forever, husband'. Ceilin and ceilhina (husband and wife) are pronounced 'kayl-in' and 'kayl-ina'.
> 
> Next chapter, the fall-out, and Liriel having faced down her mother has next got to deal with her father.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fallout from Sabrinda's arrest has barely settled when the next crisis starts. Liriel having confronted her mother is faced with a no less challenging conversation from her father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very long chapter, this one! A reviewer on SKM said this fic had the potential to be both sad and hilarious. This chapter's both.

Meryndor was kneeling outside Sabrinda's cell, staring at her through bars of solid Dwemer metal. They'd let her keep her robes, just slinging her into an empty cell and locking the door. Her guards had protested but the ReachGuard were having none of it, just saying to take it up with the King. So the Thalmor soldiers Sabrinda had brought took up positions by her cell door, keeping an eye on their Justiciar. It was something at least.

“Sab, I'll get you out of here, I promise,” Meryndor said, although in truth he had no idea how to go about it. Madanach had not looked like the forgiving type. True, payment of five hundred septims would probably get her out of here, and he did have the coin, but that wouldn't be until tomorrow and Ancalime needed her mother tonight. He needed Sabrinda tonight.

“I know you will, meleth,” Sabrinda said gently, looking surprisingly composed for someone who'd just been arrested and publicly humiliated in front of half the city. “Just pay the fine tomorrow, and I'm sure they'll let me go. Madanach did say that'd be all that was required. He's got precious little honour as far as I've heard, but he's unlikely to go back on what he's promised in front of his wife.”

“That doesn't change the fact you've got to spend tonight locked up in here!” Meryndor cried. “What am I supposed to tell Ancalime, hmm?”

“Meryn, I have survived worse than this,” Sabrinda sighed. “Don't worry about me. Just go home and make sure Cali's all right, the poor thing must be so scared. I don't like leaving her alone with that Uaile woman.”

Nor did Meryndor after today – what if she decided a solo evening trip out was just what Ancalime needed and let her wander the city at night??

“I don't want to leave you alone here,” Meryndor whispered, stroking Sabrinda's cheek through the bars. Sabrinda held his hand to her face, eyes closed and smiling wistfully, then she let him go.

“I don't want you to go either,” she said, sounding nothing like her usual imperious self. “But bennig, our baby girl needs you more. Please meleth, go back to the house, take care of Cali. She's barely into her thirties, she'll be worried if neither of us are back soon. Please make sure she's all right. Then go to the Keep tomorrow, pay my bail and I'm sure we'll be together again before you know it.”

Meryndor leaned forward and kissed her, his heart breaking but he knew she would stand firm on this. She was also right – his wife would survive. His little girl needed him. Both of them did.

~~~~~~~~~~ 

“Oh, and if I spy a singing biiird... I'll snap its neck before it's heard!”

Not only was Ancalime not frightened, she was playing with her dolls and singing to herself. Right now she was holding one of them in her left hand, having it stand there and look around aimlessly while in her right hand, she was moving her other doll slowly towards it.

“And if I meet that fair maid Nelly, I'll plunge my knife into her belly!” Ancalime giggled and then the doll in her right hand pounced on the doll in her left.

“STAB STAB STAB STAB STAB STAB STAB!” Ancalime laughed, grinning maniacally. “And then... STAB STAB STAB STAB STAB STAB STAB!” This was accompanied by hitting one doll with the other until it fell over.

“Well done, Miss Primrose!” Ancalime whispered to the surviving doll. “Mother will be so pleased!”

Where in Oblivion did she pick these things up from?? He'd blame the human kids but Sissel and Lucia hadn't seemed quite that disturbed.

“Sweetheart,” he said, taking a seat on the empty child's bed. “What are you doing?”

“Playing at sneaking and stabbing, Daddy!” Ancalime said cheerfully. “Cicero says they're very important things to learn.”

“Who is Cicero?” Meryndor said, amazed at how calm he was actually feeling. Mainly because if he did get jailed for wringing the bastard's neck, at least he'd be with Sabrinda again.

“Good evening, sirrah,” and that was Uaile, and maybe she'd have answers. “I see your little girl's been making friends with Cicero.”

“So she says,” said Meryndor, eyes boring into Uaile's. “Who exactly is Cicero and what sort of maniac talks to children about sneaking and stabbing?”

“He does,” Uaile said cheerfully. “Don't worry, most of the kids have had the Cicero talk by now. About how he's not a real grown-up, he just looks like one and not to pay too much attention to what he has to say. Isn't that right, Ancalime?”

“Yes, Uaile,” Ancalime sighed. “But he is funny, isn't he?”

“Yes, he's funny,” Uaile said with a smile. “That horker joke never gets old. To answer your question, sirrah Meryndor, Cicero Garra-Lann, or Laughing Dagger, is a sworn blood-brother of the King and Queen, and a vitally important member of the court. Sure, he's a little eccentric, but he's done the Teyrnas plenty of services before now. We owe him a lot. And he's also married to the Reach-Princess as of last week. I've not seen a couple so in love for a long time, not since the King's wedding anyway.” Uaile realised at that point who she was talking to and coughed nervously. “Er. Let's just say Cicero's a much-loved character round here.”

“He's a jester!” Ancalime squealed. “I've never seen a jester before! Except in fairy tales, when the jester would follow the prince or princess around and sing songs and tell jokes and caper and get them out of trouble. Is Cicero like Florimel the Fool, Uaile? Does he look after Princess Eola and follow her around?”

Uaile paused, considering this one and then nodded. “You know, as a matter of fact, that's exactly what he does. Does something similar for Queen Liriel and King Madanach too, but these days it's mostly Eola. Seeing as she married him and all. Love at first sight apparently. It's really very romantic.”

If anyone else referred to his daughter as Queen Liriel, Meryndor didn't trust himself not to scream. 

“Wait a second, that jester is married to Princess Eola?” he interrupted, trying to work out how the princess, the sole heir to the throne, had been allowed to get away with that one. Sure, he believed in love, most Altmer did, but even so there were limits and Madanach was the overprotective type, to put it mildly.

“Yes he is,” Uaile said, narrowing her eyes. “What, they're in love and both human, even you can't object to that.”

“I know, I know,” Meryndor said irritably. “But did her father really say yes?”

“She was pining for him,” Uaile snapped, glaring at him. “She was off her food, lying in bed all day, crying her eyes out because she missed him. Of course Madanach gave in and said yes. Maybe Cicero's not the son-in-law he exactly wanted, but he makes Eola happy and as long as she's happy, Madanach'll put up with anything else Cicero can throw at him. Because Madanach's a loving father who wants his children to be happy. Some people could stand to learn from that.”

Definitely a very stern glare from the young Reachwoman and Meryndor could cheerfully have strangled her. He was a loving father who wanted his children to be happy! It wasn't his fault Liriel couldn't see past her short-term desires.

“I think I need to feed my daughter and put her to bed,” Meryndor said firmly. “You said there was food ready, yes?”

“Stew in the cauldron,” Uaile said tersely, getting up. “May need reheating, but you can manage that, surely?”

“I think I'll cope,” Meryndor growled as she sauntered out. “Come on, Cali. Let's get some food. I think it's venison stew.”

Ancalime promptly abandoned her dolls and ran after him, now prattling on about her new human friends and how they'd played all afternoon and could she play with them tomorrow, please Daddy, could she?

“I don't know, Cali, I need to speak to your mother about it,” Meryndor sighed, feeling his frustration ready to boil over. On the one hand, absolutely not, these humans were clearly a terrible influence. On the other, he didn't often see her this excited and he knew she'd get bored if he left her to her own devices, and probably seek them out anyway.

“Where is Mamma?” Ancalime asked, looking around and realising Sabrinda wasn't here. “Is she coming home soon?”

And this was the bit he'd dreaded.

“Not tonight, caradiel. She... had to see to something. But she's all right, and I'm going to pick her up in the morning.”

“Oh.” Ancalime's shoulders sank but then she shrugged it off and started talking about Sissel being able to do magic and how they'd had a contest to see who could cast the most spells and Sissel could cast Ice Spike already, how come she wasn't allowed to learn Destruction spells?

“When you're older,” Meryndor sighed, feeling a headache coming on. He loved his children, he really did... but sometimes he could wish they'd grow up that bit quicker. Then he thought of Liriel, all grown up and married and killing dragons... and he pulled himself together, squeezed Ancalime's shoulder and wished he could just take her away from all this and hide her forever.

~~~~~~~~~~

 _I don't think I'm getting any tonight._ Somewhat churlish, perhaps, but Madanach hadn't seen his wife in days, she'd only just got back, and here she was, lying on their bed, curled up in a foetal position and staring into the distance.

She looked terrified, haunted even, and Madanach didn't entirely blame her. Not every day your disapproving parents turned up and criticised your entire family life. He stretched out on the bed behind her, reaching out for her anyway.

“Cariad? Liriel macreena, are you all right?”

Slow shake of the head.

“Of course I'm not all right, my parents are here!” Liriel wailed. “My mother hates me, _you arrested her_ and my father... oh gods, I've broken his heart, he must be so upset, I was his beloved little girl and now I'm not! I'll never be again. Because I got married and lost my virginity, not in that order either, and _never told him_.”

“I can see how that would be awkward,” Madanach said, allowing himself a smile as he nestled behind her. “But he must know you had to grow up some time. You're a beautiful and special young woman, a man would have to be blind or insane not to want you. Someone would surely want to marry you at some point.”

“That's just it, no one back home ever did!” Liriel sighed. “My parents took me to dances, had their friends bring their eligible young sons over for afternoon tea, but no one ever asked me and truthfully I didn't meet anyone I ever liked. I'd be polite but nothing ever clicked. In fact I'd spend most of the time at these things feeling bored out of my mind. And despite the fact they were all supposed to be competent mages, whenever I started talking about the finer points of Destruction magic or Conjuration, they all seemed to lose interest and Mother would tell me off. Some topics of conversation aren't suited for the dinner table, apparently.”

Given that dinner at Understone Keep regularly involved discussions of corpse reanimation and the nature of fire magic and sundry other aspects of the arcane, Madanach had a hard time getting his head around this, but he did just about remember being a young Forsworn man, enthusing about the delights of Destruction magic and how it actually worked to various young Forsworn women and getting only bored looks for his trouble. In the end, that had been how Mireen had won him over, she'd actually been interested, they'd had lots of long conversations which she'd often steered round to matters political without him even realising it, and one day, after one such conversation she'd finally declared “You'll do” and kissed him. He'd not even thought to question until much later exactly what he'd be doing.

One of the many things he liked about Liriel was that not only had she been interested in all things magical, it had been genuine. No agenda, no desire for a husband who could further the political ambitions she wasn't allowed to. She'd genuinely just been a fellow magical enthusiast and Madanach had adored that in her. That and she'd had no objection whatsoever to killing his enemies for him. He really liked that about her.

“Well then, the men of Alinor are idiots and unworthy of your time,” Madanach purred as he nuzzled her ear. “I like it when you talk magic.”

Faint smile on Liriel's face as she squeezed the hand currently resting on her stomach. 

“I like it too,” she whispered. “I love being with you so much, I just want the rest of the world to go away and leave us be so it can just be the two of us, together forever... or as long as we've got.”

Sadness, as there always was whenever the concept of eternity came up, and while he'd hoped she'd made some sort of peace with the idea of him dying well before she did, it was rapidly becoming apparent that it would never entirely go away, a wound that would never heal but that she could live with as long as she never really thought of it and just lived in the now. Something that was impossible to do with her parents here and her elven heritage right in her face.

“Which is why you never said anything,” Madanach said quietly. He could feel the pain coming from her, a situation with no easy answers, just the inevitability of someone getting their heart broken.

“No, and... Daddy will never forgive me,” Liriel whispered. “Marrying off a child is such a big thing, there's negotiations and meetings between both families, courtship gifts, half the reason betrothals go on so long is so the in-laws can get used to each other and the parents can come to terms with the idea of their innocent little baby growing up and losing their virginity. The actual ceremony involves bride and groom entering from different directions on the arms of their opposite-sex parent who formally presents them to Mara for marriage – stop smirking, it's romantic!”

“Sorry,” Madanach said, trying not to laugh. “I'm just trying to imagine a Forsworn wedding with that – oh gods, the idea of Keirine escorting me in and desperately trying to convince Mireen and her father I was a pure and untouched virgin, and old Cordach trying to do likewise with her, with at least three ex-partners each in that wedding crowd and I know damn well Mireen had more than I did.” He wiped a tear of mirth away and pulled himself together. “Ah, beloved, did anyone ever tell you your people are adorably sweet but very very strange?”

“Do you know what, no, no one ever has,” said Liriel, turning over, trying not to laugh herself. “It isn't funny, Madanach, I've broken tradition in a fairly major way, my parents have just had this flung on them with no warning at all, you are the polar opposite of the son-in-law they actually wanted, in fact your magic and the fact you're a king are the sole points in your favour, and my father's got to cope with the idea that he's never going to be able to truthfully present me to Mara for marriage after all! I mean, I'm not sure he wanted to do it at all, but I'm sure he'd rather that than this.”

“No parent ever wants to see their baby grow up,” Madanach sighed. “Sithis knows I never did – you want to see a Forsworn man cry? Go to his daughter's initiation celebration, he'll be in pieces. As it is, Kaie's the only one of my four who ever got one and I was in prison at the time. Still locked myself away in my cell and bawled my eyes out when the message came through. And you were at Eola's wedding with me, you saw the state I was in then. And you know what? Watching them grow up is better than the alternative.”

He didn't say what the alternative was. He didn't need to. Liriel already knew the story of Eithne and Amaleen, his two oldest daughters who would never grow up, never be adults – because they'd been killed before their sixteenth birthdays. Madanach had never really got over it – most of the time he'd be fine, but every year on their birthdays, he'd visit the graves and sit out there quietly, talking to them about everything that had happened since his last visit, and if he sometimes seemed to forget they were actually dead instead of just abnormally quiet, Liriel didn't correct him. It was still preferable to when he visited Kaie's grave, where he'd just sit in silence, crying quietly and whispering how much he missed her and why, dammit, why? The death anniversary had been a few months ago and watching her husband go to pieces had been one of the hardest things she'd ever had to go through, not least because one day that would be her and she wouldn't have him to hold her ever again. But seeing him able to function most days, and talk about his older two without losing composure gave her hope that she too would survive. Another reason to keep Serana and Aranea and Jenassa around. She'd need friends who'd still be there in the long and lonely years to come.

But that didn't help her deal with her parents now. She snuggled closer to Madanach, wanting comfort, warmth, another person next to her, not to be alone. He happily obliged her, pulling her into his arms and kissing her forehead, love and affection pouring out of him. Liriel sighed happily, basking in it. Yes, yes it would be fine, she'd love again, would have to, one day she'd be ready and she'd bring her new lover to a Matriarch for a Forsworn Bonding so she could have this again.

“I love you,” she whispered. “Despite everything.”

“What do you mean, despite everything?” Madanach said indignantly. “I am an excellent husband.”

Liriel barely contained the laughter on that one. “Madanach, you took me for drinks with the _Daedric Prince of Debauchery_ , and then the two of us ended up cutting a merry swathe across all of Skyrim, in which you ended up kissing Sanguine, I'm near certain I was having sex with someone else while you kissed me and we had an uninhibited three-way with Matriarch Moira and then told Ysolda of Whiterun we were taking a third spouse to give us children??” She was glaring hard at her disbelieving husband. “I'm not even getting started on Matriarch Esmerelda and the goat! I've had to pay out close to five thousand septims as compensation and hush money! And it is _entirely your fault!_ Frankly I don't know what I still see in you.”

“Don't forget attempting to have sex with the statues of Dibella in the temple, not to mention half the priestesses,” Madanach said innocently and Liriel actually did smack him at that point – not very hard though and he fended her off, catching her in his arms and kissing her.

“I'm really very sorry,” he murmured in her ear. “I had no idea... Daedric Prince of Debauchery? Really? And I outdrank him on strong jenever first time we met? Well now. Not often a man gets to say he drank Sanguine under the table.”

Liriel glared, eyes blazing with the wrath of an angry dragon as she leaned closer, tip of her nose just touching his.

“The only reason I am not dragging you back to Morvunskar and leaving you there to your fate is because the children would miss you,” Liriel growled, but Madanach could tell her heart wasn't quite in it.

“I'm very sorry to hear that,” he murmured. “What exactly happened with the goat?”

“Not telling you,” Liriel said and he could feel the smugness, the desire to get revenge for all this by holding at least something over him, and that was Liriel all over, the smirking, teasing Elven wench, delighting in his misery as always. He'd show her. In one go, he'd rolled her on to her back, enjoying the squeak as he pinned her shoulders down and nudged her legs apart.

“That is a damn shame,” he breathed, nipping the point of one ear. “In that case, I'm afraid I'm just going to have to get it out of you the hard way.”

A little whimper escaped her throat and then he kissed her, loving this, loving the most powerful and dangerous woman in Skyrim pinned helplessly underneath him, those gorgeous breasts pushing into his chest and he could feel the nipples through her clothes and his. Definitely past time to get naked and get his lips on said glorious breasts and there she was, reacting and arching her back even more and gods yes he wanted her, no one was ever taking her away, not ever, her parents could definitely go fuck themselves, Liriel was his, dammit, his!

She was whimpering again, and he abandoned all thoughts of pinning her down and teasing her, now he just wanted her, planting fierce kisses all over her face and neck as his cock ground into her and she was unfastening his robes, fingers in her hair as she gasped his name.

Definitely getting laid tonight after all. At least he thought he was... until he heard the knocking on the door.

“Shouldn't you get that?” Liriel whispered.

“No,” Madanach growled. “I'm ignoring it. They can get Nepos to deal with it.”

“Madanach!” Nepos called through the door. “Madanach, you have a visitor.”

Madanach collapsed on the bed, ready to weep. Clearly this whole enterprise was doomed. He was tempted to tell Nepos what said visitor could do with himself, but if his steward was bothering him, it was probably important.

“Court is _closed,_ Nepos!” Madanach shouted back. “Can't it wait?”

“It's more of a personal call,” Nepos answered and Madanach got wearily out of bed. It had better be extremely important, and unless Eola or Argis needed something, whoever was fool enough to interrupt his evening was in for short shrift. Sithis help him, if this was Cicero's doing...

He wrenched the door open, eyes narrowed... and his mood didn't improve on seeing his father-in-law waiting behind Nepos, golden eyes like Liriel's glaring at him. Oh good. Exactly what he needed.

“If it's about your wife, she's not being released until tomorrow,” Madanach growled. “I don't care if you've got the coin with you, I don't care if you're offering sexual services along with it, your wife for once in her life is spending a night actually being held accountable for her actions.”

Meryndor's eyes had gone even more glacial.

“May I speak with my daughter,” Meryndor said coldly. “I presume you're not keeping _her_ locked up in a cell overnight.”

Which promptly brought all sorts of interesting scenarios to Madanach's mind, but Liriel really wasn't terribly kinky and Madanach was fairly certain her parents were far too strait-laced to even consider a sexual side to that comment. He hoped so anyway.

“Liriel!” he called, barely sparing Meryndor another glance. “Liriel, cariad, it's your father. He wants to talk.” 

The barest whimper from the bed, and Madanach left Meryndor without a second glance and went back to her.

“Creenama, you do not have to,” Madanach whispered as he sat on the bed next to her, stroking her hair. “Say the word and I'll send him away.”

Slowly, Liriel got up, doom in her eyes as she squeezed her husband's hand. 

“It's all right, I'll talk to him,” she whispered. “You don't have to be there, I'll speak with him out by the throne.”

“Are you sure,” Madanach murmured, liking nothing about leaving his wife to face this alone. Liriel nodded tearfully, stroking his face, not seeming to care about the lines and the rougher texture and the stubble, and she kissed him once on lips that were not soft and delicate and never truthfully compared to rosebuds by even the most metaphorical of bards.

“I love you,” Madanach whispered, pressing her hand to her cheek before kissing her fingers and letting her go. Her choice, after all. But as he watched her go, he counted quietly to five then cast an Invisibility spell as soon as she was out of sight, his illusion gifts ensuring it made not a sound, then followed it with a Muffle charm to mask his footsteps and even the sound of his breath. He might let Liriel go... but he would not let her go alone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Meryndor was waiting out by the Mournful Throne, the usual servants gone and the guard duty lighter, and the dogs had been banished back to Banning's care when Madanach took over. He was not a dog person, and nor was Liriel, it was horses for her, always had been. Even if they had aged and died so quickly, she'd loved all of them. She'd picked them out as foals, her father at her side, smiling indulgently as his little girl squealed over them, helping her learn to ride and break new horses in, gently chiding her for riding too fast and what would happen if her pony broke a leg and had to be put down? Liriel had cried at the mere thought and always taken good care not to push her horses past their limits. Her father always had that effect on her – her mother might shout and Liriel wouldn't care but it was her father putting an arm around her and gently explaining why they had the rules they did that inevitably broke her. 

It wasn't going to break her tonight.

“Father,” Liriel said quietly, Shrouded Boots noiseless on the stone floor. The lack of footsteps always made people uneasy. She'd take any advantage she could get. That and the Archmage's robes with the hood down usually did the trick, a little reminder she was one of the most powerful mages in Skyrim.

It wasn't working on her father. He got to his feet, not smiling this time.

“Daughter,” Meryndor returned. Silence as he stared accusingly at her and Liriel dropped her eyes, not willing to see the disappointment there. 

“We should sit down,” she said, motioning for him to sit at a nearby table. It was the same one Cicero had hid under when Madanach had found out about him and Eola, and father and daughter had argued furiously about it for a good fifteen minutes before he'd finally given in.

Liriel wished she had a father like that. Madanach might have his faults but no one could deny he genuinely just wanted his daughter to be happy. Once she'd thought Meryndor was the same... but no longer. _No, he wanted his eldest daughter to stay by his side, his innocent virginal little princess with him forever, no other man even coming close._

_And I got married without him._

Meryndor was sitting across from her, hands folded in silence. Liriel didn't even know what to say. _Sorry about Mother, I didn't know my husband was quite that crazy?_ Except she did, of course she did, she knew what the Nords had done to his sister and how helpless and furious he'd felt. He'd been a powerless teenager back then, but he'd had a man's spirit and a brother's heart. As a king in his prime, he was never going to let a slight to his wife go. Despite the disapproval, part of her found the protectiveness rather alluring. Not just that he wanted to... but that Madanach was capable of it. Few were stronger than her, few even came close. Madanach might not have the Thu'um but he had magic to match hers and an army of loyal followers. How was she supposed to have resisted that? No Dovah could ever take a weak mate. 

If only she could make her father understand. But she had a feeling he'd just be furious that she thought someone else, some human, was stronger than him.

“Liriel, why?” Meryndor said, sounding frustrated and helpless and sad all at once, and Liriel fought back the tears that were threatening to come, the childish urge to break down in tears and throw herself at his feet for forgiveness. She wasn't a little girl any more and a Dovah did not cry!

“You wouldn't understand,” Liriel said, not caring how sulky that sounded. How did you even begin to explain _dovah-sos_ and the Thu'um and realising you were the strongest person in the room and how lonely that felt? And that Madanach had been dealing with something like that for years, with being lonely at the top, or just plain lonely, and she'd been drawn irresistibly to him?

“I'm trying, Liriel,” Meryndor sighed. “I want to, I swear it. But all I can see is this primitive country full of humans led by this monster of a man who murdered his way to power, and my little girl in the midst of all this and... Liriel, why, how, you just wanted to learn magic, dreaming about having a magic castle of glass and a winged pony!”

Liriel could barely remember what Alinor's spires even looked like any more.

“Stone's more durable,” she whispered. “And I don't need a winged horse, not when I've got Odahviing.”

“That girl Sissel mentioned an Odahviing,” Meryndor said, frowning. “She said he was your dragon friend.”

“He is,” Liriel said fondly, quietly pleased at the utter confusion on her father's face. “He helped me save the world. He flew me to this hidden mountain temple where there's a portal to the Nord afterlife. I went through it and killed Alduin the King of the Dragons, stopped him destroying the world.”

“Alduin?” Meryndor said, puzzled. “Isn't he the Nord name for Akatosh?”

“No, Daddy,” Liriel sighed, mentally cursing that damn book. “He's the Firstborn of Akatosh and he's going to eat the world at the end of time. Which was almost last year, but I stopped it happening.”

“Liriel,” Meryndor sighed. “You are one hundred and thirty five soon. Aren't you a little old for fair folk tales?”

Liriel could stand for a lot but having her achievements put down was not one of them.

“It is _NOT A STORY, BORMAH!_ ” Liriel shouted, slamming her palms on the table, the Thu'um shaking even Understone Keep's foundations. “I AM LIRIEL DRAGONBORN AND I AM PART OF A LEGEND! FEIM ZII GRO!”

It was the first Thu'um she could think of that wouldn't actually hurt him. Dragon magic wasn't typically gentle.

Meryndor had shielded his face with his hands and was only now looking up, staring in amazement at her ethereal form, actually going so far as to wave a hand through her arm.

“How are you doing that?” he whispered, entranced. “Was it that thing you did with your voice?”

“It's called the Thu'um, Daddy,” Liriel said, feeling a little embarrassed of her outburst – but not ashamed like she once would have done. Nords and Reachmen between them had cured her of any lingering reticence she might once have had regarding shouting matches – either the Thu'um or the regular sort. “It's voice magic. Dragon magic. I couldn't have learnt it anywhere else but Skyrim and the Reach. Daddy, please stop doing that, it feels really weird.”

“Sorry,” said Meryndor, withdrawing his hand but looking intrigued nonetheless. “They told me you killed dragons. I didn't know you were learning their magic too. Is that what you did to that one you killed this afternoon, took its power?”

“Yes,” Liriel said softly, deciding not to mention she'd taken not just its power but its very soul. “It's how I learn Shouts. And it's difficult and dangerous but I'm the only one who can do it. Everyone else takes years to learn even one. You ask Cicero, he's been trying to learn how to breathe fire for months. He hasn't managed it yet.”

“From what I hear, that's probably for the best,” Meryndor said sternly. “Given that he spent half an hour talking to Ancalime earlier and I came home to find her singing about sneaking and stabbing and playing some sort of game involving one of her dolls stabbing the other, he's the absolute last person who should be allowed anywhere near magic. Liriel, I know he's part of the court here, but surely the fact King Madanach tolerates a bloodthirsty lunatic in his city, marrying his daughter no less, didn't tell you something?”

Liriel really didn't know how to tell her father about Cicero. Really, how did you explain him to anyone? Cicero was a force of nature in his own right, a little bit like having a Daedra or a small humanoid dragon living in your house.

“He's not a Reachman,” Liriel said quietly. “Cicero's an Imperial, only came to live in Skyrim a few months before I did. We were both foreigners in a strange new land and he was lonely and homesick too. He's had a very hard life, lost everyone he loved after the war. I think his mother died in the occupation. It... it damaged him, but he's happy these days. We just take care of him as best we can.”

“We... Liriel, are you saying you met him first??” Meryndor asked, frowning at her. She nodded. Might as well admit that at least.

“It was me who introduced him to the Forsworn. I first met him by the side of the road after his cart broke down, and I helped him out. Then I met him again later and got to know him better, and then I saved his life from this werewolf, and seeing as there was a price on his head, I took him to Madanach's camp for safety. Turned out the Forsworn liked him. He fit right in, apparently.”

Meryndor was staring at her like she'd lost her mind entirely. 

“He's a friend... of yours.”

“Yes,” Liriel admitted, blushing. “And I'm so sorry about Cali, I didn't know they'd met! I'll – I'll talk to her if you want...”

“She wants a jester doll,” said Meryndor, glaring. “With red hair and black buttons for eyes, and a little black dagger like his. I hope your friend has somewhere to run to, because when your mother hears about this, she may actually kill him.”

 _Good luck with that one, Daddy._ Liriel made a mental note to get such a doll crafted and sneaked into Ancalime's luggage before she left. Given the length of an Altmer childhood, and that most Altmer were very sentimental about their childhood years, it could well mean someone remembered Cicero fondly for centuries after he died. Immortality of a sort. But that reminded her all her human friends would die long before she did... including her beloved husband.

“He's not an easy man to kill,” Liriel said, raising a smile at that. “Also Eola would be heartbroken, and Madanach really would execute Mother if she broke his daughter's heart. I'll make sure he gets a stern talking-to.”

“He needs locking up, never mind a good talking-to!” Meryndor snapped. “But never mind him. The dragons, the unsuitable friends, I could understand all that, you're only young once. I can even understand the children – taking in two young orphans like that's rather noble of you, daughter. But Liriel, why... why get married. Did you want a father for them or was it the power? I know strong magic can be hard to resist, but marriage?? To one of them? Liriel, how could you, didn't we raise you better than that?”

And there it was, same Thalmor superiority her mother exuded, that Alinor was wreathed in, that the Altmer were the Aedra's chosen people (if they were, why was Daedra worship so prevalent there?) and no one else ever really mattered. Liriel had always wondered why bother creating the other races in the first place if the Altmer were the best one, but she'd always been told not to ask questions like that.

Since coming to Skyrim and finding out what the Thalmor were really about, she'd come to realise exactly why no one asked questions.

“You raised me on lies, father,” Liriel whispered, feeling the dovah rage starting to rise again, and if she spoke above a whisper, she might do more than shake this Keep, there might actually be fire. “You told me we were different! Better! Purer!”

“We are!”

“LIES!” Liriel shouted, finally losing it. “The Thalmor torture people for worshipping the wrong god! And we declared war on them for what? To enslave them in preparation for wiping them out?”

“We declared war because of pirate raids out of Hammerfell and Imperial spies all over Valenwood!” Meryndor snapped. “Don't bring the war into this, Liriel, that did not mean you had to throw yourself away over a human! Liriel, what did you do to yourself? You were innocent once.”

“I was ignorant once,” Liriel said coldly, feeling her cheeks flush. “I knew _nothing,_ and perhaps if I had, I wouldn't have gone to comfort a lonely old man and ended up getting deflowered by a river bank for my trouble!”

A strange twinge of guilt that wasn't her own, and Liriel had a feeling Madanach wasn't far away. Listening in, of course he was, and Liriel found it oddly comforting.

“He did what,” Meryndor said quietly, and Liriel could feel her father's magicka rising. It was an extremely odd sensation, not something she was used to at all, Altmer just didn't let their magicka go like that and her father hardly ever did. Certainly not like this, not a slow burning rage that would split the world open and let Oblivion pour through if it could.

“You heard,” Liriel whispered. “All I knew about sex and love was pretty romantic stories and it did nothing to teach me about the reality. Nothing about what it's actually like being swept off your feet, kissed half to death and being begged to let them have you. Why did I marry a human, Daddy? Because he is powerful and dangerous and _talented,_ and when he kissed me the first time, it was like he needed me more than _breathing!_ And thanks to bloody Alinor and its bloody _stories_ and insistence on some stupid _purity,_ I knew nothing about how to deal with _any of it!_ I was a mess for weeks! I hated myself and him for weeks, when a Forsworn woman would have kicked up her heels, done her make-up and gone back for seconds the next day!”

“ _That_ doesn't surprise me,” Meryndor growled, looking faintly disgusted, and Liriel's rage began to falter and fade as she realised this was her father, her beloved father who'd always doted on her and adored her, and now he was looking at her as if she was a stranger... and not a stranger he liked either. But he shook his head, rubbing his forehead and doing his best to pull himself together.

“Daddy, I'm sorry,” Liriel said, reaching out for him... and feeling her heart break as he backed away, as if she'd infect him with her dangerous ideas. “Please, I know it's not what you wanted for me, but please believe me, I love him so much and he feels the same. I know it can be hard to see from the outside, but he's such a good husband, he really is...”

“How can he be, he's a damn human!” Meryndor snapped bitterly. “He knows nothing about you, understands nothing about you, none of them ever can, _because they don't live long enough!”_

 _Low blow, Daddy._ That was what Liriel wanted to think, to say, but in reality she couldn't find the words, fury and anger and desperate heartache all combining as the unhealed wound she tucked away out of sight and out of mind tore open.

“Do you think I never had any human friends, never knew any in my youth?” Meryndor was continuing. “Alinor was part of the Empire then, I used to have to travel, Cyrodiil, Valenwood, Hammerfell, even High Rock once. I was just like you, young, idealistic, making friends with the locals, even fancied myself in love with a young Breton girl once. We just flirted, nothing ever happened, I knew enough not to rush in to these things. Then I went home, came back a few decades later... and most of my human friends were old men and women, or dead, and my young Breton was married with three children, grey-haired and wrinkled, and daughter, you have never known hate until you see someone you care about stare back at you and hating you just because they got old and you haven't yet. I've barely left Alinor since. Then I met your mother, and we did our best to raise you the right way, so you wouldn't make my mistakes. Damn it, I knew something like this would happen, it's why I didn't want you to leave!”

“You loved a Breton girl...” Liriel whispered, feeling her world falling apart as everything she thought she knew turned like one of those shadow illusions, the perspective broken and suddenly none of it made sense any more. 

“I thought I did,” Meryndor said bitterly. “But it was years ago, I wasn't much older than you are now, younger actually, I don't think I was even a hundred. What does it matter? I barely remember her face. All I remember is she was a powerful witch who'd had to leave her occupied homeland, called herself Kaie ap Faolan.”

Five hundred years ago, not long enough ago to actually be Red Eagle's child, but quite possibly a descendant, and definitely a Reachwoman.

“She came from here,” Liriel whispered. “She was from the Reach.”

“Could have been, she said it was in the east, near Skyrim,” Meryndor shrugged. “She really hated Nords, I know that. My point being, she's been dead for five centuries nearly and I barely remember her. Because she died before I could even start getting to know her, not because of some tragedy but because that is how it is. Because humans die before we can even appreciate they've lived! _That_ is why we raised you the way we did, Liri-bella.” His voice had softened, heartbreak in his eyes as he reached out to stroke her cheek. “Because we can only really love other mer, daughter. They're the only ones who live long enough. I've had four hundred years with your mother, she's the love of my life. I could never have a connection that deep with anyone else, not now. What can this Madanach ever be to you, Liriel? A mere few decades from now, he'll be dead, and five centuries from now, what will you have? If you are lucky, you'll barely remember him. If you are unlucky, you will be lonely and heartbroken and mad from grief. Liriel, don't ask me to support you in this, I can't just watch my little girl destroy herself over some human, I can't...”

Liriel couldn't speak. Couldn't even think straight. Couldn't see through the tears and could barely breathe through the lump in her throat as she felt her heart breaking at the thought of looking back in the long and lonely centuries to come and thinking of Madanach as just some human she'd had a crush on once... and the alternatives were worse. Whatever happened, whatever path she walked, it was doomed to end in pain.

Ignoring her father's cries, Liriel fled the room, seeking privacy, quiet, space to howl her misery out without the world looking on. She was barely even aware of her Illusion-shielded husband just feet away, watching her go and feeling too numb and confused to go after her.

Meryndor sank back onto the stone seat, head in his hands. He'd not meant to say all that, not meant for it to go that far, definitely not meant to bring up his own youthful adventures, hadn't wanted to hurt her... but dammit, someone needed to say it. She clearly hadn't fully realised where her choices were taking her. That's if she'd chosen freely, of course – unplanned sex with an older man (relatively speaking) after she'd only meant to comfort him didn't sound that freely chosen to Meryndor, and frankly the whole having Madanach assassinated idea was starting to sound less and less of a bad one.

A shadow fell over the table and magic rippled nearby as two human hands materialised on the table in front of him. An old man's hands but with fine robes attached and Meryndor looked up into Madanach's soulless silver eyes.

“How dare you speak like that to her, elf,” Madanach said softly. “I don't care if you're her father or not, no one treats my wife that way. We're empathy-bonded, did you know that? I can feel her!”

Meryndor hadn't known that, and part of him was intrigued – old Alinorian tales spoke of married couples being so close that they knew instinctively where the other one was and if they were in trouble, and he idly wondered if they'd had matrimonial empathy bonds that the secret of which had been lost. But with Madanach glaring at him, he had more pressing concerns.

“Did you have it in place when you took her virginity?” Meryndor growled. “No, of course not – if you had, perhaps you'd have realised she didn't want you.”

Madanach's eyes had narrowed even further.

“I'll spare you the details, elf, but believe me, she wanted it. She tried to fight it for ages, but she came back in the end. I didn't think she would, but she's always able to surprise me.”

“What could she possibly see in you,” Meryndor snapped at him. Madanach just grinned, a small gloating smile on his face.

“Apparently Reachmen do it for her. Considering you apparently had a fling with Kaie ap Faolan after she fled into exile, I daresay she inherited that from you.”

“You bastard,” Meryndor swore, getting to his feet and wishing he knew more Destruction magic, because burning this fetcher's face off was seeming like an excellent plan.

“Kaie ap Faolan, well done,” Madanach said thoughtfully, not backing down an inch. “Legendary witch of the Reach, a rebel leader in the early Third Era, it was her uncle slit Tiber Septim's throat, you know. Sadly he survived, but we can't have everything. They nearly caught her but she got away, fled over the border into High Rock, organised the rebel effort from there. Pity you didn't stick around. You could have helped. Sure you aren't Dragonborn, but I think you're a very smart man. I think you might have got us the Reach back rather sooner than we managed on our own.”

“Shut up,” Meryndor growled. “She meant nothing to me. It was centuries ago.”

“It always means something to an Altmer,” Madanach said knowingly, cruel eyes saying exactly who'd said those words to him in the past. “Or was that another lie you told your little girl along with all the other pretty falsehoods you raised her on?”

“You know nothing about Altmer,” Meryndor hissed, face mere inches from Madanach's.

“Not when I first met her, no, and it nearly cost me dear,” Madanach said, gloating grin vanishing. “But I have been learning, Meryndor, and I'm mostly learning that what a people believe about themselves bears little relation to reality. Nords think they're honourable warriors, but I've seen unimaginable cruelty and trickery from alleged true Nords. Imperials think they're urbane and civilised, but they're actually the kinkiest of the lot. We Reachmen think of ourselves as fun-loving tricksters, but I think that's because most of us didn't live long enough to grow out of it. And as for you people... monogamous virgins waiting for your one true loves and only loving mer? There's a lot of half-blood children in Cyrodiil, elf.”

“Shut. Up.” Meryndor growled, this close to actually shocking Madanach to death. He was old, older humans had weak hearts, right? Wouldn't take much, right? Right?

“And as for your daughter,” Madanach continued. “Maybe she was a virgin until she met me, but do not think she was a sweet little innocent. She killed in Bruma, and she killed again when she got to Skyrim. She has blood on her hands, Meryndor. Good thing she ended up with me really, we've got that in common at least.”

Meryndor let out an inarticulate cry of rage, grabbing Madanach's robes and only stopping when he felt cold orichalcum at his neck and looked up to see a grinning Orc holding a blade. Borkul, Madanach's Orc bodyguard.

“Now can I shiv him, boss?” Borkul asked hopefully.

“Now, now, Borkul,” Madanach said calmly, waving him away along with all the other ReachGuard that appeared to have materialised out of nowhere. “Don't trouble yourselves, friends. I'm sure Meryndor didn't mean anything by it.”

Meryndor let Madanach go, suddenly disgusted by the whole situation, at Liriel, Madanach but mostly himself for rising to the bait in the first place.

“You are a vile excuse for a man,” Meryndor hissed. “Aedra, but I almost wished she'd been killed by dragons before she ever met you. I think I'd rather see her dead than know she'd let you touch her.”

It was the wrong thing to say, completely the wrong thing to say to a man who'd lost three daughters and buried one only the year before. Before Meryndor even knew it, he'd been grabbed by the collar and slammed onto the table, Madanach glaring at him in utter hatred.

“Don't you ever ever say that again,” Madanach snarled. “You have never lost a child, you don't know... Eola had three older sisters once! I had to watch Eithne die, I had to hold Kaie's cold corpse in my arms and know my girl was gone forever. You wish Liriel had died?? I wouldn't wish that on anyone. If she's breaking your heart now, it is still better than presiding over her funeral. I would give my entire kingdom to have Kaie back. I might even give up Liriel to have Kaie back. You...” 

Meryndor was very aware of the various guards all turning their backs quite deliberately, forming a protective ring and watching for enemies. Guarding the Reach... guarding their king from anyone who might ask why he was assaulting an innocent man, although Meryndor correctly guessed there were few citizens of Markarth who would ask any such thing.

“You count your blessings every single day that all the children of your blood are living and breathing, healthy and happy,” Madanach said softly. “If they grow up, leave you, make mistakes and choices you never would have made, you thank the gods they're alive to make them. Eithne could have eloped with Ulfric Stormcloak, Amaleen converted to Talos worship, Kaie decided to join the Companions of Ysgramor, and I would rather any or all of those than what actually happened to them.”

Meryndor was only vaguely aware of Ulfric Stormcloak and he'd never heard of the Companions but they sounded Nordic. He could imagine a Reachman King would probably not have approved. Madanach had just closed his eyes, shoving Meryndor back and turning to walk away.

“I want you out of this city, elf,” Madanach said, and he sounded tired and old and in pain. “I want you and your wife out of here by nightfall tomorrow. I don't care if you are Liriel's parents, everything about you being here is hurting her, and I don't even care if five hundred years from now she thinks I was just some youthful fling. I love her more than anything except my children, and right here, right now, she is my wife and she loves me back. That is all I care about, and if centuries after I'm gone, that's no longer the case, at least I won't be alive to know. Now if you'll excuse me... Liriel, gods, Liriel, I'm coming.” He swept past the guards, almost running towards the Keep's master bedroom, leaving Meryndor staring nervously at six unimpressed Bretons and one glowering Orc.

“Boss said to get your sorry hide out of here,” Borkul growled. “Do I have to haul you out myself or can you get your worthless arse out of this Keep on your own?”

Meryndor elected not to risk the first option. Picking himself up, he staggered from Understone Keep, not sure if he'd saved his family or destroyed it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that is how to break your lead couple's hearts. Next chapter, things do not get any better...


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftereffects of Meryndor's visit prove worse than the conversation itself, as Liriel and Madanach give in to their darker emotions, and Madanach makes a decision that changes everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter. Oh my gods, this chapter. I cried writing it. There was angst. Much angst. Have your tissues to hand.
> 
> Various conversations reference bits of Nightshade and Juniper, specifically 5, 6, 17 and I think chapter 10? But if you've read the fic, you'll probably remember them. Ahmul is Dovah for husband.

Liriel had fled to their bedroom after that conversation with her father, Madanach could feel her down the empathy bond. At least she'd not witnessed Madanach's argument with her father although he knew she'd have felt his rage.

Madanach was reaching out to her, trying to feel her and all he could sense was heartbreak and misery, like an unending scream in the back of his mind. It probably wasn't far off how he'd been after Kaie died, and that frightened him. No one had died, so what was Liriel grieving?

He knew the most likely answer but he refused to even entertain that thought. Liriel was his wife and she wasn't going anywhere.

“Liriel,” he gasped as he strode into their bedroom, closing the door behind him and looking for her. She was curled up in their bed and he could hear the sobbing from the door. “Liriel, I'm here, it's all right, I'm here...”

He slid on to the bed, curling up behind her, arm around her waist as he held her, kissing her neck and burying his face in her hair. Liriel did not turn to greet him, in fact she seemed to be turning away. It was subtle, but he could sense it, subtle emotional withdrawal as she shut him out.

“Liriel?” he whispered, and it was very very rare anything really frightened the fearsome King of the Reach... but losing his loved ones did it every time. “Liriel, what is it, what did he say to you?”

“You should know, you were eavesdropping,” Liriel said quietly. He'd guessed she'd have noticed and the lack of censure for that pleased him at least.

“He's lying,” Madanach growled. “He was messing with your head, he wants you out of this city and home with him in Alinor. They don't care about you or your happiness, they just want you back home and not showing them up any more.”

“He loved a Reachwoman once,” Liriel whispered. “Met her when he was young, came back for her thirty or forty years later and he hadn't realised humans didn't live long enough for that to ever work...”

“My heart bleeds,” Madanach growled, feeling very little sympathy for a man who'd claimed Liriel dying was better than Liriel with Madanach. Even if the words had been spoken rashly in anger, Madanach stood by his own. Nothing was worse than a child dying. Nothing. “He also said it meant nothing.”

“ _It always means something!!_ ” Liriel howled, voice rising to a shriek as she slammed a fist into fine cotton sheets and collapsed back again. “It always... means... until it doesn't... gods Madanach, I can't, I _can't_ , I can't be like that, I can't look back on you and...”

“It was just a fling for him,” Madanach whispered, desperately holding on to her, desperately trying to talk her round. “He didn't know the first thing about her or the Reach, they never married. You, you're one of us, you're queen! _My_ queen!”

“And in five hundred years, no one will even remember that,” Liriel gasped through her tears. “No one but me, and who is to say where I'll be? I might not even live here any more.”

“Cariad, no one is going to forget the Dragon-Queen who freed the Reach,” Madanach said, feeling desperately proud of her despite the fear of losing her that wouldn't leave him. “You're a living legend, ceilhina. Red Eagle died thousands of years ago and we never forgot him. He didn't even win. They'll remember a beautiful woman who avenged the Markarth Incident by calling a dragon from the sky and visiting death on the Bear's city in revenge. They'll remember the one who brought the lost heir of the Reach back to us. They'll remember the one who freed their king, restored him to power and to himself, over and over again.”

“Humans have short memories,” Liriel said bitterly. “Short lives. Sithis, Madanach, this isn't fair!”

No, it wasn't, and it was worse for her because at least Madanach wouldn't be alive to know any of it.

“I told them to leave,” Madanach said quietly. “They're leaving Markarth tomorrow. I know they're your family, and your little sister's adorable by the way, you never told me you had a little sister!”

“Didn't think you'd ever meet her,” Liriel said, finally smiling a little. “She's only thirty-two, I thought you'd be long gone by the time I ever saw her again...”

Barely four years younger than Argis. That gave Madanach the shivers. Likely he'd never see the girl again in that case. Which was another thing to hurt out of all this – he'd really liked little Ancalime! And she'd grow up and barely remember him.

“I'll miss her,” Madanach said. “Liriel, if you want to say goodbye tomorrow, I will understand but I want to be there. I am not leaving you alone with your parents, not after this. And then they are leaving. Having them here is breaking your heart and I will not have anyone hurting my wife...”

“It won't change anything!” Liriel cried, rolling over and roughly shoving him away. “You'll still be human and short-lived and all I want is you for the rest of my life! But I can never have that, and all I've got to look forward to is one day in the future where maybe, just maybe, I won't love you any more and you'll just be a memory of some human I had a fling with once!”

“Liriel,” Madanach gasped, reaching out for her, his own heart breaking as she backed away, flinching from his touch and curling up, letting out a little sob as she buried her face in her hands. “Liriel, if that's how it ends up being, it's how it is. I won't be around any more, I won't mind. I hope you do find someone else eventually, I don't want you to be alone.”

Liriel's wail tore at his heart and he could feel the agony pouring off her as she curled up and rocked quietly, tearing at her hair and refusing his touch, his every attempt at comfort.

“Liriel,” Madanach whispered, hand hovering above her. “Cariad, please, don't shut me out, I can't... Liriel, don't leave me. Please.”

“You will leave me one day,” Liriel whispered, voice ragged from all the crying. “And I will have no say in that, Madanach, none! You already told me you don't want vampirism.”

Eternity as a blood-sucking monster and never seeing Kaie or her sisters again. No thanks. Even Liriel wasn't compensation enough and he hated that he couldn't do it... but no. Not even for her.

“So you're shutting me away now. Wasting what time we do have and pushing me away,” Madanach growled, fist clenching as he withdrew in turn, not understanding this or any of it, not knowing why she had to keep thinking about the future, why she couldn't make the most of now while she had it. Why she couldn't be a human who just happened to have golden skin and slanted eyes and beautiful pointed ears?

Liriel sobbed even harder, keening into the sheets, and Madanach was torn between heartbreak and anger, every nerve screaming at him to grab her, shake her, make her look at him, kiss her until she _stopped crying_.

And just a second too late he remembered the bond worked both ways and she could feel his rage.

“Liriel,” he said hastily. “Liriel, I don't... I'm not going to hurt you, I just want... I just want my wife back...”

“Madanach,” and she sounded quite calm considering he could still feel the heartbreak rising off her. “Madanach, please just go, you're making it worse...”

Yes he probably was, and this was like Mireen all over again, the two of them tearing into each other, all their worst parts feeding into a vicious cycle of resentment and hate, and Madanach began to wonder if maybe Mireen wasn't the harpy he remembered. Maybe he'd driven her mad. Maybe he was just a terrible husband.

Saying nothing, he got up and left, everything feeling cold and dark and one single thought echoing around his head as the part of himself that hated him began whispering its poison.

_Liriel was better off without you._

~~~~~~~~~~ 

Madanach was barely aware of where his feet were taking him, walking trancelike through Understone Keep's winding corridors, guards standing to attention as he passed, most probably able to tell all wasn't well, but no one daring to ask what was wrong. Another downside of being King – the distance. Have an argument with your wife on a Forsworn camp, someone would come find you eventually, and there were plenty of quiet places to sit undisturbed and wallow until then.

Markarth had none of that. So here was Madanach, lonelier than he'd ever been and yet too many damn eyes watching. 

All the same, Madanach still had his court, and unlike many other rulers, he'd handpicked every single person in it, and chief among them was the one who'd been there from the start.

Madanach knocked on Nepos's door, not sure where else to turn but his steward would know what to do, right?

“Enter,” Nepos called out, sounding rather imperious, and of course he did, no one other than Liriel, Eola and Madanach himself outranked him... and none of those would come calling on him, not at that time of night (except occasionally Eola but she usually called out to him as she knocked).

Madanach pushed the door open, closing it behind him and leaning back against it, not sure what to say now he'd got here. Nepos was alone, sitting by the fire with a book in his lap and a mug of tea in his hand.

“What is it, I didn't call for any... one... good gods.” Nepos put the tea down, put the book to one side, taking one look at Madanach and making his way over, fingers raised to Madanach's cheeks.

“What are you doing here, shouldn't you be with Liriel?” Nepos whispered, looking faintly horrified and Madanach lost it at that point, closing his eyes because he knew if he said anything, he'd cry. 

“Madanach,” Nepos whispered. “Oh gods, Madanach cariad, come here. It's all right, I've got you, it's all right.”

Nepos peeled him off the door, cradling his king in his arms, and Madanach clung on to him, desperate for comfort of any kind as he sobbed quietly on his steward's shoulder. He didn't react as Nepos removed first the circlet, then the torc, leaving both on his table before steering Madanach into his bedroom, sitting him down on the bed.

“May I take it this has something to do with the visit from our Elven friend,” Nepos said gently, rubbing Madanach's back as he rested his head on his steward's shoulder.

“'m not good enough for her,” Madanach whispered, drawing a little comfort just from having someone there. Caradach had died a long time ago, but Madanach had been close to his father as a boy. He still missed the man even today, missed his smile, his laughter despite the poverty they'd lived in, the willingness to tend to scraped knees and childish problems and make him feel better about being smaller than the Nord kids. Caradach would have loved Liriel.

“Well, we all knew her parents thought that,” Nepos said with a smile. “Cordach thought exactly the same when you married his daughter. Question is, when did you start to believe it?”

“Because it's just a fling to her,” Madanach whispered. “Or it will be. Doesn't matter how much we love each other now, five hundred years from now a youthful fling is all it'll be, and she can't handle it. Told her I didn't care, but she can't not care. Because she's an elf and I'm a damn human who can't even imagine it. She sent me away. Said I was making it worse. Worse!” Madanach collapsed into Nepos's arms, giving up all pretence of being all right or kingly or anything. 

“Madanach, she loves you, she always did, still does,” Nepos said softly. “That can't possibly have changed in a few days.”

“She felt sorry for me,” Madanach whispered, heart breaking as he remembered her joining him by that fire so long ago, asking if he was all right and telling him he shouldn't be alone. Of the surprise, pleasure and arousal caused by the most beautiful woman at the party coming to sit with a worn-out old man who despite being a crowned Forsworn king honestly didn't deserve and hadn't expected another go at the dance. Of taking her in his arms and being so overwhelmed at the physical contact he hadn't even stopped to realise she was an elf, not a Reachwoman. Hadn't even considered she'd been an innocent young virgin just feeling sorry for him. 

He should have left well alone, but he'd kissed her anyway and not been able to stop (although he would if she'd asked, of course he would). Now they were all paying the price.

“I assure you, she has not felt sorry for you in some considerable time, not coincidentally at the same time as she got to know you better,” Nepos said, but he didn't loosen his grip on Madanach.

“You can't feel her like I can!” Madanach cried, and he could still feel it, a little ball of agony at the back of his mind, Liriel bewailing her fate. A fate he'd sentenced her to, and Madanach felt the tears coming back, the guilt, the self-loathing, and he was crying his eyes out on his steward's shoulder.

“Cariad,” Nepos whispered, sounding wretched and sad and helpless. “Madanach cariad, don't. Don't, it's not your fault.”

“I ruined an innocent girl's life,” Madanach managed to get out. “She's so beautiful, I love her so much and I just broke her heart. She had it all before she met me, and now she's a mess, and it's all my fault!”

“It can't be all your fault, Liriel came back to you not once but twice of her own free will,” Nepos pointed out, stroking Madanach's hair. “Clearly she thought you were worth it.”

“Not any more,” Madanach whispered, desolate. He'd have started crying again, but the frantic hammering on the door stopped him.

“Nepos!” Eola cried from outside. “Nepos, I need help! I can't find Da, and... and I think he's in trouble! Him and Liriel! She's shut herself in their bedroom and I _don't know where he is!_ ”

“Eola, come in,” Nepos called back, shrugging at the frown Madanach was giving him. The door flung open and Eola's shoulders sagged in relief as she saw her father in Nepos's arms.

“You found him, thank Anu. Da, are you all right?” Eola ran to where they were sitting, dropping to her knees and reaching out to squeeze his hand, and that actually didn't help at all – his little girl shouldn't be the one taking care of him.

“You don't need to be here,” Madanach said, trying to sound appropriately grown-up and parental but not really doing that good a job of it. “You've got a husband who loves you, go and have some fun with him. One of us should be happy.”

“He's too busy freaking out over Liriel,” Eola sighed. “He's afraid she's going back to Alinor and then no one will hear his sweet Mother's voice ever again. So I sent him in to see her, because the fact he's not supposed to be somewhere has never put him off going anywhere in his life, and I came to look for you. Cicero said he'd seen you go in to see Liriel after her da left and then come out again looking awful. He panicked and... well, trust me, when you can sense your spouse feeling that terrified, especially when it's Cicero, you come running.” 

Of course you did, as Madanach had run to Liriel's side as soon as her father had gone, desperate to take her in his arms and make it all go away... only to realise he was the cause of it. At least Liriel wouldn't be alone. Madanach's relationship with Cicero was a bit love-hate, but the little fool was loyal, dependable and genuinely cared about his family. In a deranged and obsessive way, of course, but Cicero wasn't so bad really, and his affection for Liriel was undeniable. Madanach was glad she had someone there for her. He just wished it could be him.

“I'm terrified and my wife is nowhere to be seen,” Madanach whispered. “Because marrying me was a terrible idea and I should never have touched her.”

“Don't say that!” Eola cried. “You two were really happy together! She adores you. Da, she... she came to me after you and her... you know... for the first time. After you sent her that torc. And she was confused and upset and said twenty years was no time at all for a marriage. So I told her to get herself back to you, have sex until you couldn't move and then enjoy you while she had you, and in the years to come, she'd at least have the memories. That was if no one else ever tried to woo her, and given we come back if we can, I'm very certain she'll have a whole series of determined insane Reachman magical prodigies camping out on her doorstep trying to seduce the dowager Dragon-Queen out of hiding. Which I told her, and it made her laugh and then she decided that seeing as you'd ruined her life, you should damn well pay for it, and off she went to haul you into bed. Which worked out quite well, so what in the Void changed?”

“I imagine Father dearest wasn't terribly pleased and said a few things that upset her,” Nepos said calmly, although the fingers clutching Madanach's robes belied the outer serenity.

“In five hundred years, she will barely remember me,” Madanach said woodenly. “I don't think she ever thought of it like that before. It's tearing her apart. And there's nothing I can do that isn't hurting her more. I broke her, Eola. I broke the Dragonborn.”

“Da,” Eola whispered, getting up and sitting on his other side, cuddling into him, and not only should his little girl not be comforting him, realising she'd been Liriel's confidant during their courtship was just weird. That Liriel and Eola got on was fantastic, a gift to a worried second-time round husband trying not to screw it up this time. That the two of them had a connection that pre-dated he and Liriel's own... he had no idea how to feel about that. Essentially he'd married one of his daughter's friends. Generally not a good idea, but how could he possibly have known??

“What do I do?” he whispered. “I don't know what to do...”

“Do nothing,” Nepos said firmly. “You rest, you sleep, you have tea or soup or something. You stay here tonight, I'll look after you, don't worry.”

“That better not be a euphemism,” Madanach muttered, but he did relax just a little. Nepos's normal persona was that of a genial, fatherly old man, charming to a fault, but just sometimes a little bit of take-charge authority came through... and Madanach found it oddly comforting. 

“Don't worry, cariad, I've got no designs on you,” Nepos said, kissing the top of his head and normally Madanach would have found that the opposite of reassuring. Tonight though, he was too worn out to care... and he trusted Nepos with his life, always had.

Eola stayed a little while longer, giving Nepos a hand as they stripped Madanach's outer robes off him and tucked him into Nepos's bed, Eola sitting by him and holding his hand, whispering not to worry, she'd talk to Liriel for him.

It would take a lot more than even his formidable daughter's power to heal this, although bless her for trying. Then Eola was kissing him goodnight and leaving him, and before long, Nepos was crawling in alongside him.

“You don't have to do this,” Madanach murmured as his oldest friend rubbed his back.

“Yes I do,” Nepos replied firmly. “You're my king... and you're my friend. I'm not leaving you alone, not when you're like this.”

Probably for the best. At least there wasn't any Skooma in Nepos's room. Madanach had been clean since Cidhna, his magic and various Forsworn potions stopping the withdrawal symptoms and he'd been too busy, had too full a life to need it.

As Nepos dimmed the lights, Madanach was once again feeling a void in his heart that could only be truly filled by someone to love him... but in Liriel's absence, Elsweyr's finest might just do the job.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Liriel had heard the door close, heard him go and collapsed on the bed, sobbing her heart out, wanting to run after him and scream she was sorry, not to ever leave her, she loved him so much... but she couldn't do it. She just couldn't. Because elves lived for the long-term, they couldn't not, and in the long-term, he'd be dead and she'd be alone, heartbroken, grieving... and then not. Then looking back and trying to remember what he looked like. The love of her life, reduced to just a footnote, and it was breaking her heart.

He was furious and angry and hurting, and now off somewhere else in the Keep and she couldn't feel him properly at all now, just a black void of venom and loathing. She couldn't tell who it was directed at – her, her parents, just the situation? She didn't know, didn't care to. All she knew was there were no happy endings here, just short-term bliss built on a lie that could enchant her as long as she didn't look too closely at the cracks on the illusion... and then heartbreak and misery once it ended. She just hadn't expected it to end before Madanach actually died.

Of course he hated her for it, for looking too soon. Why wouldn't he? She'd felt the anger. At least he'd left when she asked, and why couldn't he have done that on that riverbank, saved them all this?

_Because you didn't ask. Because no one had ever kissed you before, desired you before, no one had ever kissed your breasts and whispered how much they'd wanted you before and you didn't want it to stop._

She still didn't want it to stop. That was the problem. Except her parents had come and shattered the illusion and not all her skills or Madanach's could put it back together again, not now.

The door creaking open, some change on the breeze and someone was sneaking into the room, by Sithis, who would dare sneak up on a dragon?

Aura Whisper and a thunderbolt later, and a very high-pitched shriek answered that question.

“LISTENER! Listener, it is humble Cicero, please don't burn him! He means you no harm! He would never harm his beloved sister!”

Someone else who'd die too soon, but the knowledge didn't break her in the same way. Cicero walked hand in hand with death every day. Sooner or later the Night Mother would claim her beautiful boy back, and Cicero would go willingly... but not today.

“Cicero,” Liriel gasped, feeling her heart skip, part guilt and part relief. Cicero knew loss like no one else... but he also knew rebirth. Hadn't he built a new life after losing his former family, finding a new one in the Forsworn? He'd settled right in, finding a natural home among a faction that danced the Dance of Life and Death like no one else. She wished she could follow as easily.

“Listener,” Cicero gasped, slithering on to the bed alongside her and snuggling into her arms. “Listener, sweet Listener, what is it, you were crying, the Reach-King is not here, he left looking... not himself. Cicero heard you talking to your father, he heard the cruel things, monstrous things he said to you. He saw you... become unhappy.” Cicero looked up, eyes narrowing and lips curling back into a snarl as he stared up at her, gloved fingers tracing her jawline. “Cicero does not like the Listener being unhappy. Say the word and your parents die. But not in front of your sister, no. Cicero likes your sister. She is sweet and innocent, does not say horrible things to her older sister. But your mother who strikes you for being what you are and your father who is worse with his sly words and vile insinuations... say the word, Listener.”

“NO,” Liriel snapped, her own lips curling back as she growled at Cicero. “You do not hurt my family, Cicero. Not. Ever!”

Cicero gazed back, and Liriel suddenly wondered if perhaps even Cicero's obedience had limits... but he did eventually nod.

“As you wish,” he said curtly. “They live... for now.”

Liriel relaxed, pulling him closer and kissing his forehead as he bowed his head in submission.

“Thank you, Keeper,” she said quietly and Cicero responded by curling up in her arms, snuggling up to her.

“Cicero was worried,” Cicero whispered. “Cicero was scared. Cicero has not seen you like that before. Only when Madanach and you argued that time after you gave the Reach to the Stormcloaks, and he took your torc back. Oh but even then you were still strong! You still went off on your very important Alduin contract, and maybe Madanach was angry but Cicero knew he would get over it eventually, he always does. But now, now he is broken and so are you and... Listener, you mustn't leave! Not the Reach, not the King, not Mother! Mother is worshipped here, Mother is loved! This is her true home, and you must be here to listen! You cannot go back to Alinor, you can't, you mustn't!”

Liriel could feel tears in her eyes, and she tightened her grip on poor Cicero. Sweet Cicero. Little brother. Loyal brother. Always helpful and willing to stab anyone she wanted, and accompany her no matter how dangerous it got, and smile as if nothing untoward was going on even when it involved Black Books of Hermaeus Mora (even Madanach disapproved although that had not stopped him reading them too).

Of course she wasn't going back to Alinor. She'd built a life here before she ever met Madanach, and she'd have a life here despite him. She'd go back to Solitude if she had to, but she wouldn't abandon the Brotherhood. Not to mention trying to raise Sissel and Lucia in Alinor, good gods, never. No, they could stay with Madanach, at least they'd be cared for and loved for as long as he lived, and she could stay in Vlindrel Hall if she had to.

“I won't leave you,” she promised. “Not you, little brother. I will miss you when you die, but I know you'll be with Mother and probably quite happy.”

“If she lets me visit the Scuttling Void to see Eola,” Cicero said, sounding quite cheerful. “Or Eola could come to see Mother. I'm sure Mother would like her.”

“I'm sure the Night Mother would be very pleased to see Eola whenever she felt like dropping by,” Liriel said, smiling a little. It took her mind off the little ball of misery and revulsion that was Madanach right now.

Cicero smiled sadly and hugged her back.

“Cicero wishes the Listener was happy too,” he whispered. “Listener, you are going to the Void, so is Madanach, you will see each other again and be happy!”

Liriel felt the tears coming back. “He's only in the other room and being around him's breaking my heart!” Liriel whispered. “I don't want him to go, I don't want it to change, I don't want him to die, but it'll happen and then I'll heal and won't love him any more and... and now he hates me, I can feel it!”

“He does not hate you,” Cicero murmured. “He did not look like he hated you when Cicero saw him come out of here. He looked... oh Listener, he looked terrible but not like he hated you.”

“That's worse!” Liriel cried. “It means I hurt him! I broke the Reach-King! I – I broke Madanach...” She clung on to Cicero, sobbing helplessly into his motley, not able to stop herself as Cicero held on to her, cooing and fussing over her, whispering wretchedly not to, not to, Cicero was here, Cicero would care for her, Cicero would tend to her always and Madanach was not as fragile as Liriel thought, Madanach was like his daughter, stronger than anyone, and while Liriel agreed Eola was mentally unshakeable, she hadn't the heart to tell Cicero Madanach was just an old man who was far more vulnerable than anyone ever saw. She just let Cicero tuck her up in bed and then curl up alongside her, babbling and fluttering and snuggling her until she drifted off to sleep and even then Cicero did not let go.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Morning brought no clarity, no easy answers but it did at least bring calm. Liriel stayed in bed, hiding from it all, wanting to shut out the world, time ticking steadily by, each second bringing her husband closer to his grave and her closer to unending heartbreak. She could barely feel him in her mind today, just this morass of inky blackness that even she who'd dared Apocrypha and the Soul Cairn was afraid to look at.

But Cicero was there and Cicero was patient, trilling and chivvying and generally making a nuisance of himself until Liriel finally agreed to get up and have a bath, and if it was a bit weird to be bathing with Cicero being there, looking the other way but definitely there, singing and babbling to himself, it was oddly comforting.

Then Eola swanned in without even bothering to knock and the resulting shrieking and cuddling brought tears back to Liriel's eyes. Why were Cicero and Eola lucky enough to have such a simple relationship? Both human, both likely to die within a relatively short time of the other, and Cicero, the more vulnerable of the two, probably likely to go first – and they never had to deal with weighty emotional issues hanging over them. Their foremost concern was generally where the next kill was coming from. Liriel envied them that.

“So how's our Listener doing this morning?” Eola asked, coming to perch on the poolside behind her... or at least she did until she realised Liriel was still naked and immediately took a seat just out of sight, Cicero curling up at her feet. “Any better?”

“My husband hates me,” Liriel said, feeling as empty as ever. “My parents hate me. My marriage is a lie built on a charade and it's going to be over in a few years. What's the point?”

“Don't say that, my da is heartbroken!” Eola cried and that just tore Liriel up all over again. “He loves you, Liri, he really does. You're the woman of his dreams, cariad, you're beautiful and murderous and dangerous and you can breathe fire. Why wouldn't he want you?”

That much had never been in doubt, and that was the worst thing. The love was genuine. The affection was genuine. The ability to amuse, entertain and understand each other was genuine, a gift of the gods. Maybe Madanach adored her, but he was also wild and murderous and dangerous and could summon fire at will. Dragons didn't normally submit to anyone, but Madanach made Liriel feel calm and protected just by being there. Of course, he didn't get it all his own way and there'd been plenty of times she'd had him pleading for more and begging to be allowed to touch her... but it would never have been the same being held down and claimed by someone who wasn't actually a match for her in strength.

Not having that any more made her want to cry, and where was she supposed to find another man who wasn't afraid of her? Harkon, Miraak, Ulfric, Mercer - she'd killed the others, and she'd never met anyone she trusted like Madanach. How was she just supposed to replace him and move on after he died?

“He's going to die!” Liriel cried, and it all kept circling inescapably back to that, didn't it? Humans died so stupidly soon, and maybe her mother saw them as a lesser breed unworthy of a true-bred mer... but her father just didn't want her to get her heart broken.

_Too late for that, Daddy._ Sighing, Liriel got out of the pool, after reaching for a towel and checking Cicero was looking away, and he was, head dutifully buried in Eola's lap.

“Sweet gods, Liriel,” Eola said faintly. “You perhaps want to warn me when you're going to wander around naked?”

“Don't tell me you're prudish about these things,” Liriel sighed as she dried herself, wondering why Eola was averting her eyes and blushing – Eola blushed? Liriel hadn't realised she was capable of it. 

“Oh sweetie, believe me, that is not the problem,” Eola said and Liriel could swear Cicero was snickering. “Just... get dressed quickly so I can look in your direction again, yeah?”

“Honestly, anyone would think you'd never seen a naked woman before,” Liriel sighed as she pulled on her underwear. That elicited an actual cackle from Cicero before Eola smacked him.

“Cicero, shut up. And Liriel... oh Liriel, you sweet summer child,” Eola sighed. “Never you mind, honey, you just get dressed and let me know when you're done, OK?”

Liriel nodded and got dressed. Archmage robes, circlet, Gauldur Amulet, wedding ring, Shrouded boots and gloves, Mehrunes' Razor at her waist, that'd do. Then... time to face the world, she supposed. See her children. See if she still had a husband.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

No sign of the kids as she emerged. They must be off playing somewhere in the city. Such was often the case. She could sense Madanach though. He was out by the throne, although not in it. She could see his silhouette as she approached – see his shoulders tighten as he sensed her coming.

“Go on, go talk to him, we'll be right here,” Eola whispered and Cicero nodded fervently. 

“Cicero isn't going anywhere, sweet Listener,” Cicero murmured and that did make her smile. With young initiates from the Forsworn to tend to Mother, Cicero had a lot more free time on his hands and Eola could only take so much of him at a time. So Liriel not infrequently found Cicero fussing over her too when Madanach was busy. It was all rather nice... but Cicero wasn't the Reach-King.

Today, Madanach didn't feel like one either. Liriel could tell he was feeling tense, on edge, not nearly as confident as usual. In fact there wasn't a lot there at all, just... nothing. Emptiness. Which was wrong, very very wrong, usually he'd sense her nearby and feel pleased. Not today.

“Madanach,” Liriel began as she approached. “Madanach, about last night...” No, really no idea about any of it, but maybe just being able to talk to him would help. If only she knew how he was feeling. Because he looked terrible. Hunched over the table, barely looking at her, red and puffy eyes. He'd not slept well, she could tell that.

“Madanach,” she whispered, guilt gnawing at her as she reached out for him... then shock as he flinched away.

“Liriel,” Madanach said quietly. “Your parents are leaving today, your father just stopped by to pay your mother's bounty. I made myself scarce, don't worry. You should probably go and say goodbye.”

Right now, Liriel couldn't care less about her parents. What was she supposed to say? _Goodbye, thanks for visiting, by the way I think you just ruined my marriage and any chance of happiness I might have had in life._

She was more worried about her husband. This withdrawal was not like him – normally everyone could tell what sort of mood he was in.

“What about you?” she said softly, not touching him but taking a seat next to him. Madanach just turned away, head in his hands.

“It doesn't matter,” and he was barely audible, even Liriel's Elven hearing straining to catch him. But she heard the words and her mind flashed back to another time they'd been sitting by a campfire and she'd asked about his happiness and he'd shrugged and asked if that mattered. They'd been apart for weeks, she'd not seen him since the conference that got him his kingdom, but she'd known by that point she wanted him back. 

“It matters to me,” she whispered, same words she'd said then, but this time he didn't look up or respond, he just moved further away.

“It shouldn't,” he said roughly. “Liriel, when they're gone, when Vlindrel Hall's empty again... you should move back there. Or one of the many other houses you've got. You can take the kids, do whatever you want with the ring, you can keep the torc even. Don't worry about the bond, I'll get Keirine to break it, you can have your head back. Have your life back. All I ask is a chance to see the girls now and then, let me write to them. I'll send coin for their upkeep if you like, full retinue of servants if you want, anything you need, let Nepos know.”

Liriel let her hand fall to her side, everything coming screaming to a halt as it sank in just what he meant.

“No,” she whispered. “No, you can't. You're my husband!” But he was slowly shaking his head.

“I can't, Liriel,” he said softly. “I can't do it to you. I should never have... I should have let you be, let you go off and find yourself an elven man who can give you what you actually want. Because you're not happy with me, at least you're not any more and I can't... damn, Liriel, I can feel you, you're breaking my heart!”

“ _I'm_ breaking _your_ heart??” Liriel breathed, tears rolling down her cheeks. She wiped them away irritably – a dragon shouldn't cry, even when her ahmul walked away like this. “Madanach, what are you doing, I still love you, you wanted me only yesterday, don't do this, please, what about the kids, what the actual _fuck_ am I supposed to tell our children??”

“I don't – damn it, Liriel, do you think this is easy for me? That I want this? That I wanted anything other than the few years left to me spent with the woman I love??” He was looking at her now, glaring at her in fury, but his eyes weren't cold like they usually were when he was angry. The numbness from him was gone but the fury, hate, loathing, despair, bitterness and grief were no comfort. “But I can't have that, because my godsdamn in-laws turned up and ruined _everything_ and now you can barely look at me without seeing my tombstone. So yes, perhaps we're better off divorced and away from each other, and you can hate me instead of loving me, and when I finally do die, at least you'll be pleased!”

Liriel couldn't stop the howl of grief as he said the words. He couldn't do this... she was the bloody Dragonborn... he owed her his country and freedom... pleased?? _Pleased??_

“I will never be indifferent to you,” she whispered, the words coming out more vicious than she'd planned.

“It's easier to mourn someone you hate,” Madanach said bitterly. “Trust me on that.”

The truly sad thing was, she couldn't even bring herself to do that. She'd been privy to what others rarely saw – a king with the robes and the crown off, just dozing next to her or shaving or waking up first thing in the morning and looking adorably confused, as if he wasn't sure if he was still dreaming or not, or turning their bedroom over as he called to her if she'd seen something of his. Little things that made a marriage, and the memories of holding him in her arms after sex and seeing him vulnerable, something very few others ever saw.

He was her Reachman, and he always would be, the stupid bastard. But that didn't mean she wasn't angry. Reaching for her left hand, she wrenched the wedding ring off and threw it at him, feeling vaguely pleased as it hit his cheek, the diamond drawing blood. Madanach cursed, a hand to his face, magic already flaring but it didn't erase the blood from his fingers.

“All correspondence to my housecarl Jordis or via Argis,” Liriel snapped, shoving her grief behind a facade of cold disdain. “Don't contact me yourself. I'm taking the girls to Solitude, you can write to them, and see them when you visit Lirela. But you stay away from me. You. Stay. Away!”

Liriel didn't even dare look at him. It was taking all her self-control not to cry or beg or plead with him, and had she but realised it, if she'd done all that, if she'd kissed him and screamed at him he wasn't allowed to, she wasn't leaving... he'd probably have cracked, broken, kissed her back, said he was sorry for everything, for ruining her life, but please not to go, he loved her. And if he'd done that, they'd likely have taken the conversation somewhere more private, cried, talked, ended up in bed and emerged the better for it, all ready to tell Liriel's parents where to go. But Madanach couldn't say the words and Liriel was too proud to... and things went in a very different direction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See? Crying! Oh Madanach, you really are a bit dim sometimes. Give him a political, magical or military problem and he's all over it but ask him to deal with relationship troubles and he falls apart completely. Next chapter, things go from bad to worse as Liriel goes to speak to her parents.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Liriel gone, Madanach's long suppressed demons finally get the better of him at the worst possible moment, as Liriel goes to confront her parents and learns a few things about her family, from her parents' romantic histories to the lengths they're prepared to go to to save her from herself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still here? After the unremitting angst of last chapter (I'm so sorry) we have an action packed beast this time around. One reviewer called Liriel and Madanach a bipolar couple (to be fair, they're mostly fairly sweet and loving to each other and all is usually fairly calm, but the stories tend to revolve around the emergencies) and you know, I'm starting to wonder if he actually is. He's definitely a bit messed up - twenty years stuck in a cave with only Skooma for entertainment will do that to you, and Madanach was the brilliant but crazy type beforehand... Oh and losing three kids, also not great for the old sanity. Liriel's mostly too young and inexperienced to know any better, but Madanach's definitely got Issues. As you will see.
> 
> Warnings: trigger warning for substance abuse. Also, er, Madanach/Sanguine. Sort of. Kinda. Non-explicitly. It's a bit weird and a pairing I never thought I'd write, but um, there you go.

Madanach didn't move as Liriel fled the Keep. He just looked down, staring at the wedding ring she'd left behind, mutely removing his own and placing it next to its twin, all feeling just seeming to cut off. He was barely aware of Liriel's presence in his head growing ever more distant, both physically and emotionally, and Cicero wailing about something or other until Eola grabbed him, snapped at him to calm him down and sent him away... and then his little girl started showing all her mother's famous sympathy and compassion.

“Da, what did you do, what are you doing, don't just sit there, get after her, tell her you're sorry!”

Madanach just poked at the rings. They were pretty, a perfect little pair, and truth be told he'd even found the Restoration boost useful before now. Both for healing injuries to the kids, easing his own aches and pains... and keeping Skooma shakes at bay, a little gift from Mara to help keep him clean. 

Mara's magic hadn't worked this time.

“Better this way,” Madanach said softly. Not for him, no, but for Liriel it would be. He'd do anything for Liriel. Including breaking his own heart to set her free.

“What are you talking about, it is not better!” Eola shouted. “She's the most beautiful woman in Skyrim and you just _sent her away,_ damn it, what is wrong with you?”

Nothing. Everything. He was old, tired, going to die soon enough, his marriage had been destroying his wife, he'd failed every child he'd ever raised, the Reach was free and didn't need him any more, and he'd just had enough.

“Damn it, Eola, if you think she's that pretty, go after her yourself, see how easy it is!” Madanach snapped at her. He regretted it immediately, seeing her cheeks flush and the hurt in her eyes.

“Cariad, I'm sorry, I didn't...” Madanach began. Eola shook her head, an odd pinched expression on her face and it was only when Madanach racked his brains to realise where he'd seen it before and remembered her childhood that he realised it was the look she got when she wanted to cry but was hiding it. 

“How could you,” Eola whispered, looking utterly betrayed. “After all this... Liriel's one of the best friends I ever had and you just...”

Marrying his daughter's best friend. A truly terrible idea. More than anything he missed Kaie, missed her calming presence and unswerving loyalty, missed the guaranteed hug and tea made for him that Kaie had provided whenever previous Liriel problems had cropped up. But she was gone, and Eola was all he had left, and Eola was as much Liriel's as his.

“And what do you think she was to me, daughter?” Madanach said roughly, trying not to remember how Liriel felt, soft skin next to his, the sound of her voice, the way she smelt, way she tasted and failing miserably. All things he'd never have again, just long lonely years without her. He'd taken that fate from her and brought it on himself. Justice at least.

“You still love her,” Eola whispered. “Tell her you're sorry!”

He was, of course he was, it felt like a part of him had been ripped out. But if it spared her the same in the years to come... Madanach turned and walked away, ignoring Eola's protests completely.

“Get Borkul,” Madanach snapped to one of the nearest ReachGuard. “I want him guarding my bedroom door. No court today. No one comes in or out of that room once I'm in it. Not even Nepos or Eola.”

“Da, what are you doing, I'm your daught- oof!” She'd tried to run after him, but two ReachGuard soldiers had stepped in front of her to bar her way, and while she could easily have killed them, they were just following her father's orders. Because he was king, and despite her Dark Brotherhood ranking, her closeness to Liriel and being his beloved daughter and heir, Eola at the end of the day had to abide by his rule like everyone else. In public anyway.

Eola watched him disappear before turning and running. She'd sent Cicero after Liriel, but with her father being stubborn, she needed help. Time to find Nepos.

~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

“He's seriously throwing us out?” 

Sabrinda could barely believe her ears. Only here a day and they were being asked to leave? “Can he do that?”

“It's his city, I rather think he can do whatever he likes,” Meryndor growled, fingering his neck, still a little sore after being slammed into Dwemer stonework by a man who clearly had not lost any of his physical strength despite advancing years. “He didn't specify what would happen if we weren't out of here by tonight, but I imagine it won't be pleasant. Best case scenario is if the ReachGuard haul us to the border by force and leave us there.”

Sabrinda didn't ask what the worst case scenario was. She didn't need to, she'd carried it out often enough. At least Madanach probably wouldn't kill Ancalime, and while she detested the idea of anyone of her blood living in this heathen land, Liriel would probably do as good a job as any of raising her sister.

That was if the Thalmor didn't kill her first. Sabrinda might be furious with her daughter, but that didn't mean the thought of her dying didn't hurt.

“But... he can't,” Sabrinda whispered, sinking into a chair. “We've not... I barely saw her, Meryn! Hardly had a chance... Meryn, we can't leave her here, Elenwen will...!” Sabrinda stopped, aware of Ancalime playing in her room and Uaile in the back room.

“I know,” Meryndor said quietly, sitting across the Dwemer table from his wife and squeezing her hand. Despite his intemperate words to Madanach, he didn't want to see Liriel dead either. He wanted his little Liri-bella back, his sweet innocent little princess. But the princess had become a queen, and the king involved was neither a good man nor a safe one. Meryndor hated the thought of him with his hands all over Liriel and couldn't decide what was worse, Liriel hating every minute or actually enjoying it.

“Could we leave and come back in secret – no, no, that's no good, they'd see through illusions for sure, they do actually know their magic,” Sabrinda sighed. “Gods, if they'd just let me talk to her...”

The sound of a key in the door and the door opening and closing. Both Sabrinda and Meryndor fell quiet. While both were sure Madanach had a key to this place, probably more than one, neither felt comfortable with his people just walking in whenever they felt like it.

“This is a private residence, stranger,” Sabrinda called out tersely. “State your business or leave.”

Pause. And then a voice both knew well and had hardly dared hope to hear.

“I know that, Mother, it's my bloody house.”

“Liriel,” Meryndor whispered and Sabrinda turned to see her daughter there, dressed in wizard robes cut in the style of that College they had here, circlet on her head and strange black and red boots and gloves on that Sabrinda was sure she'd seen the like of before somewhere.

“LIRIEL!” Ancalime shrieked, running out of her room to hug her sister. Liriel knelt down and held her arms out, smiling as she scooped her up, clinging on to her.

“Hey Cali-cat,” Liriel said, smile on her lips but her voice lacked the usual sparkle and her eyes looked gaunt in a way they hadn't the day before. The woman Sabrinda had seen yesterday had been a mage in her full power, a queen surrounded by her loyal people, someone who had done something to a dragon that had reduced one of Akatosh's Children to a mere heap of bones.

The woman before her looked like she was about to collapse.

“Ancalime,” said Sabrinda brightly. “Why don't you go outside and play with your human friends? Sissel and Luciel, wasn't it?”

“Lucia,” said Ancalime, confused. “But Mamma, Daddy said I couldn't, we were leaving today and there wasn't time.”

“All the more reason to spend time with them now while you still can,” Sabrinda said, hoping the girl would take the hint and leave so Sabrinda could find out just why her bright, brilliant daughter looked like a walking corpse. Exactly what had Madanach done to her?? “Off you go, Cali.”

“Oh, but I want to play with Liriel!” Ancalime protested, pouting at her. Heavens' sake, of all the times for Ancalime to develop a spine...

“Cali, do what your mother tells you,” Meryndor said sternly, and thankfully the girl gave in.

“Yes, Daddy,” Ancalime sighed and ran for the door, giving Liriel a cuddle and not sparing her parents a backward glance. Honestly, children.

Liriel was still kneeling on the floor and now her sister was gone, she'd given up any pretence of pretending she was all right. She had one hand over her eyes, staring at the floor, and Sabrinda was worried. This wasn't like her.

“Liriel?” Sabrinda asked, coming to kneel next to Liriel, one arm around her as she took her hand and helped her get up. “Liriel, what's wrong, what happened?”

“ _You_ bloody happened, that's what!” Liriel shouted, wrenching her hand out of Sabrinda's. “Congratulations, Mother, you won, all right? You won, you can go, you can stop worrying I'm going to show you up.”

“What do you mean?” Sabrinda asked, exchanging worried looks with Meryndor who was getting up to join them, also looking concerned. “Liriel?” 

Liriel's face screwed up, tears starting to pour out of her as if she couldn't stop.

“He left me,” she sobbed. “He wants a divorce. And _it's all your fault!_ ”

Liriel dissolved into tears and despite her anger, she didn't resist as Sabrinda took her into her arms, holding on to her sobbing wreck of a daughter and staring at Meryndor in shock.

“A divorce?? But... what, why, what happened?” she whispered. “I mean, I don't like the man, but I thought he loved you! He put me in prison because I spoke my mind to you.”

“He's a maniac, that much is obvious,” Meryndor said, as confused as his wife was. “But even so, he's a maniac that loves you. I said something a bit intemperate about you to him and the man pinned me to a table while his guards watched. Don't tell me that's a man who doesn't care about you, even if he is insane.”

Liriel sobbed even harder, wailing in her mother's arms as Sabrinda sat her down, dragging another chair over to sit next to her, while Meryndor perched on the table.

“He said it wasn't working,” Liriel wept. “That it was breaking my heart thinking of him dying, and he couldn't stand seeing me unhappy. So he sent me away! I lost him! I lost my Reachman...”

Sabrinda stroked Liriel's hair, still not really understanding any of this, but she could see Meryndor biting his lip and looking horribly guilty, and she knew, she just knew, this was her husband's fault.

“Meryndor, dearest, please explain what you said to our darling daughter and her admittedly unstable lunatic of a husband to ruin their marriage overnight?” Sabrinda said sweetly. While she couldn't say this was a necessarily unwanted development exactly, she really didn't like seeing her little girl in tears either.

“I don't know!” Meryndor cried, racking his brains to think what set her off. What sent her off in tears and shocked her... well in hindsight that was obvious. “Wait... I think it was me telling her about Kaie.”

“What about her,” Sabrinda said tersely, too busy glaring at her husband to notice Liriel sitting up, stunned.

“You knew he had a human ex-girlfriend?” Liriel said, confused. “And you didn't mind?”

“Of course, but there wasn't a lot I could do about it,” Sabrinda said with a shrug.

“It meant nothing,” Meryndor said quickly. “It was just a fling, it was over centuries ago, Madanach himself said she was a long-dead hero to them. She's dead and buried, just as he will be one day, and Liriel will have moved on and found someone else and will barely remember him.”

“What, like with you and Kaie?” Sabrinda snapped. “Meryn, you still have that locket with her hair in it. And you still go to a shrine of Arkay every ten years on the anniversary of the day you first met.”

“What?” Liriel whispered, dazed, but neither parent paid any attention to her.

“A man can have a few regrets, can't he?” Meryndor shot back. “And you have some nerve, you still have all Valiriel's old love letters and you take chrysanthemums to her grave _every year_ on her birthday!”

“They were her favourite!” Sabrinda protested, and at this point, Liriel was staring at the table in utter disbelief.

“Valiriel,” she said quietly. “That was your friend, the one that assassin killed by accident at that party. You named me after her. And she was your lover all along.”

“Betrothed,” Sabrinda said, face turning tight and sad at the memory. “We grew up together. Joined the guards together. Did everything together. Couldn't imagine being apart. She was like the other half of me. And then she died. I must have spent years mourning her.”

“Tell me about it,” Meryndor sighed. “Two years she let me try and court her before admitting she was in mourning for her dead fiancee still. Want to know why it took so long before we got married? That's your answer, one of us was still grieving. Aedra, we both were in our own way. I was still angry at Mara for giving me feelings for a human and taking her away so quickly.”

“Better to have loved and lost,” Sabrinda said, quoting an old Altmer poem. “I still miss her, but I'm glad I met your father. He was kind and compassionate and understood and even offered to leave me in peace... but I'd got used to him by then. So I said he could keep me company while I mourned. Three decades later and I realised he looked cute when he smiled and then I realised you could love again after all. So will you, sweetie. Sweetie?”

Liriel was shaking her head, fingers clutching at the table, looking horrified.

“It was a lie,” Liriel whispered.

“What was?” Meryndor said, confused. “Yes, I know we never told you, but this was years ago! We didn't think you'd ever need to know.”

“Need to... all those stories!” Liriel gasped, and whether it was heartbreak or anger in her voice, Sabrinda couldn't tell, only that there was power in it, a dangerous power that was already shaking the furniture and spoke of fire and blood. “Always telling me that Altmer would meet the mer of their dreams, fall in love, get married and live happily ever after, never loving anyone else ever... and you both had other people before! You loved Valiriel and you didn't even love a mer, yours was human... and they both died and you got over it and married each other, but you _still have feelings!_ ”

“Of course we do, we're Altmer, it never goes away, not really,” Sabrinda said gently, before seeing the guilt on her husband's face and realising what he'd said to Liriel last night. “Meryn, what did you...?”

“Because it's true, dammit!” Meryndor snapped. “Because it must be so much easier, meeting someone, loving them, marrying them and keeping them and not losing them and having to start again! Having someone with you who was never hurt, who isn't mourning their past lover still, who you never have to worry about comparing yourself to! We raised you that way so you wouldn't make our mistakes!”

“Valiriel wasn't a mistake!” Sabrinda protested.

“No, I know, I didn't mean it like that, Sabby, you know that... but just sometimes I wish you didn't still love her. Hard to compare to the dead.” Meryndor looked ruefully at Sabrinda, and even though they'd had this discussion many times before, it was still a hard one. Sabrinda still loved Meryndor of course, but part of her would always wonder what would have happened if Valiriel hadn't died.

“She's dead and gone though, Meryn,” Sabrinda said softly. “I married you, you're who I love now. You're the one who's alive and with me. I'll always miss her... but life didn't stop just because hers did.”

“The Dance doesn't stop,” Liriel breathed. “Unless you stop dancing. And even the dead still dance in starlight.”

“What?” Meryndor asked, frowning at her. “Is that some new poem or something?”

“Something Madanach taught me,” Liriel said, slowly getting to her feet, and there was power in her voice, power to shake an entire city down as an angry dragon began to unfurl its wings. “Something I learned in the Reach. Because say what you will about him, call him a stubborn, crazy, unstable murderer, and by Sithis that's all true enough, but he has never ever _lied to me_. Alinor gave me a lot of pretty pictures but the Reach taught me how to live!”

“Liriel, wait!” Sabrinda cried, memories of a thousand Thalmor executions flashing back to her, except now they all had Liriel's face and oh gods no, not her baby, please no. “Liriel, Valiriel, don't go!” She grabbed Liriel's arm in a panic, desperate for her not to leave. Liriel turned on her, actually snarling.

“Let go of me,” she hissed. “I have a husband to reclaim, whether he likes it or not!”

“Liriel, no, you'll be killed!” Sabrinda cried, moving to block her way.

“I won't ask you again,” Liriel growled, and Sabrinda barely recognised her daughter. The woman in front of her was not a sweet little innocent. This woman was a true-born killer, a force of nature in her own right. But even so, Sabrinda had stared down worse.

“No,” Sabrinda breathed, ready to face even a dragon's wrath to save her daughter. Liriel's lip curled back as she bared her teeth and inhaled.

“FUS RO-”

Green light and Liriel collapsed to the ground mid-Shout, stunned by Meryndor's paralysis spell. Sabrinda caught her as she fell, lowering her to the ground, heart thudding as the world came to a screaming halt.

“Meryn, what did you do?” Sabrinda whispered.

“She was going to hurt you!” Meryndor gasped, closing the gap and lifting Sabrinda's face up to look at him. “Sab, that dragon magic's dangerous, for all I know she was about to breathe fire at you!”

Sabrinda didn't have time to react as Uaile rushed out from her room, having heard the Shout and also having realised it hadn't been finished.

“What have you done?” she screamed, seeing her Queen Consort lying paralysed and helpless on the floor. “You just used magic on her? On the Reach-Queen? You just sealed your own death warran-”

Sabrinda took advantage of the ranting to cast her own paralysis spell, sending Uaile falling backwards. Then she stared back up at Meryndor, both realising the same thing. Things had just gone horribly wrong.

“What do we do?” Meryndor said, panic in his eyes. “They'll kill us when they find out about this.”

“Sleeping potion,” Sabrinda said, thinking quickly. “I still have some left. Dose Uaile with that, she'll be out cold and we'll be long gone.”

“Sab, you get nightmares without it,” Meryndor said softly. Sabrinda shook her head, eyes not leaving Liriel.

“Just do it,” Sabrinda said, stroking Liriel's cheek. “I'll get some more in Solitude. Better that than execution.”

“Right. But what about Liriel?” Meryndor hadn't taken his eyes off her, worried sick about his little girl. Sabrinda brushed Liriel's hair back, wondering exactly that. What did they do with a daughter who'd changed so completely? Sabrinda had no idea, but she did know one thing – she was not abandoning her.

“We take her with us. Get rope and a gag, there's an empty chest in her room, no one'll notice we've got an extra trunk when we leave. We'll let her out at the Embassy – or better, on the ship. I don't trust Elenwen.”

Meryndor nodded his assent and went to see to Uaile. Sabrinda stayed with Liriel, unable to tear her eyes away from her beautiful girl.

“I'm sorry, daughter,” she whispered. “But I'm not letting the Thalmor make an example of you. Not you. Not my baby. Not my little Valiriel. No one is assassinating you, not now, not ever.”

Sabrinda hated having to do this and the silent betrayal in Liriel's eyes made it worse. But she wasn't leaving her behind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Silence and quiet, thank Sithis. No jesters shrieking at him or daughters shouting at him and weren't his children meant to be loyal to him, not their stepmother? No steward staring disapprovingly at him. No guards watching or servants giving him pitying looks. Madanach had his room to himself, his little cave, Borkul guarding the door, peace, quiet, stone walls all around him. Comfier than Cidhna but not far different. 

Better this way. Safer this way. Liriel wasn't for him. She was too beautiful, too perfect, too lovely, beyond him. Even a king couldn't have a goddess in his bed. Not right. Sacrilege. Blasphemous even, wanting to bend her over the table and fuck her, refusing to let her come until she'd begged him for it. Even if she had come so hard she'd produced more fluid than he had. 

Not for him any more. It was done, over, the Dance ended, Liriel set free to find someone else. Someone not a flawed, failing mortal approaching the end of his life. Someone who was still whole, who didn't have that gaping void of unhappiness in his heart and soul. Perhaps he'd had it all his life but just never noticed it. Until the Nords took Keirine and killed his father. Until he realised how cold Mireen's heart was. Until he saw Eithne die, and that was the trigger, that had ripped the scales from his eyes. Nothing had really meant anything since, and if he'd had things to distract him in the interim, that was all they had been. Just transient little illusions to keep him from staring into the Void. Apart from Liriel. She'd made it all better, lit up his world, kept the darkness at bay, warmed his soul. And all he'd given her was pain.

Better this way. Better for her to be without him, be free to be the Dragon-Goddess she should be. Find someone worthy. Someone not him. And if sending her away had ripped his heart out, he'd have to live with it. Or find something to fill it. Well, only one other thing had ever really done the job.

Hidden at the bottom of one of the cupboards, shut away in a little chest, somewhere even Liriel didn't ever bother looking, was Madanach's little test of strength. He'd found it lying around after getting back to Markarth after Argis's wedding. He'd no idea where it came from. Did one of the servants drop it? Was it something of Thongvor's, even Igmund's? He had no idea. But he'd shut it away, out of temptation's reach. Obviously giving it to anyone else would have been irresponsible, still less pouring it out into the pool that fed into the stream that ran through the city. So he'd kept it safe and hidden, out of harm's way. Only now and then, he'd get it out and look at it when no one else was around. A little secret. A little test. Proving he wasn't an addict, because if he was, he'd have drunk it by now, right? As it was, it wasn't doing anyone any harm just sitting here. 

Madanach got the chest out and unlocked it, tracing his fingers down the little Skooma bottle. See, nothing to worry about. Of course he wasn't addicted. Maybe all the other Cidhna Mine veterans had their troubles, maybe they all had to have their little weekly support meetings and little pins celebrating how long they'd been clean for, their little buddy system. But he didn't need any of it. He'd survived in there longer than any of them, regularly downing the stuff in a desperate attempt to forget his beautiful Eithne being impaled on Ulfric Stormcloak's blade, and he'd managed to avoid addiction. He'd not even tried to find any Skooma once he got out, and even Keirine turning up at Druadach Redoubt, searching everybody, confiscating all their Skooma and tersely pouring it out on the ground hadn't fazed him. The others had whimpered and Borkul had actually screamed and gone for her but fortunately Madanach's paralysis spell had got him first. There'd been a long talk afterwards about the stuff being poison and this being better for everyone and that they'd all get through it together, but if Borkul made one move towards Keirine again, Madanach would gut him personally. Borkul, cowed, had tearfully promised to sort himself out, and the next day the rest of the Cidhna Mine veterans had made a pact that they'd all get clean together. Madanach hadn't joined them, just watching in amusement. He'd been all right. Sure, he'd got the shakes like anyone else but his magic had banished those and he'd had a war to fight. He'd been too busy to think about it.

Well, the war was done and he'd got a capable heir lined up. Not a lot left to do with his life now. The Reach mostly ran itself if he was honest, and never mind the laws he'd had to write and the government he'd had to set up to get things to that state. Nothing to distract him from the emptiness any more.

He stroked the Skooma bottle, smiling at fond memories of Skooma trips past. One drink wouldn't hurt, right? Just for a bit, just to make the darkness go away, just until he stopped loving Liriel. It wouldn't be forever. He didn't _need_ it or anything. He wasn't an addict after all.

Madanach popped the cap off and downed the contents, shivering as the sweet nectar sank down his throat, slow burn warming him up and making all the aches and pains seem to fade away. By Sithis, he'd missed this. Smiling, he sank back into the pillows. Yes, yes, this was better, better than Liriel because he wasn't hurting her or anyone else this way. Much better, so much better.

“Enjoyin' my little preshent?” Sam Guevenne slurred into his ear, although he was in his Dremora form, arms around Madanach, who reached for him without even thinking. Something about those strong Dremora arms around him felt solidly reassuring.

“Yeah,” Madanach whispered. “Yeah, I needed this. You left it here?”

“Course,” Sanguine laughed. “No one'sh ever beaten me inna drinkin' contesht before, not legitit- lezhiti- not properly. Been a long time sinsh I got properly washted. Wanted to get to know you better. A lot better. Without that daughter of yours around. She'sh immune, ya see. Nammi won' let me get at her, which ish a cryin' shame. Can't get at her husband neither, his ma won't never let him out to play, and ya don' mess wiv his ma. But you now... you're gorgeoush.”

“Tha's nice,” Madanach whispered, liking this very much, Sam stroking his hair and holding him, stretching out and rolling on top of him and it felt nothing like holding Liriel, no soft curves, just hard muscle and being quite, quite helpless. Grinning, he lay back and wrapped his arms around the Daedric Prince of Debauchery. “Gonna kiss me again?”

“I was hopin' you'd say that,” Sanguine grinned, bending down to kiss Madanach. Somewhere deep in his mind, the empathy bond was trying to flare, Liriel trying to summon him, pleading for her husband to come and get her. But the Skooma had Madanach in its grip... and so did Sanguine.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Lucia watched as Ancalime trailed after her parents, glancing sadly over her shoulder at her. She'd been allowed out to play earlier, but her father had reclaimed her all too soon, telling her to say goodbye, they needed to leave. Lucia could swear he'd looked anxious about something, but she couldn't have said what. So she'd hugged Ancalime and told her to write, and Ancalime had nodded sadly and whispered she'd try, if they let her. She'd looked so forlorn and sad and Lucia had just wanted to hug her to death. Couldn't they keep her? She clearly didn't want to go. She could stay with them at the Keep, Liriel was her sister, they were family! But Lucia had barely seen her parents to ask. No one had. It had been Eola who'd put them to bed last night, and she'd seemed worried too.

“Your ma's upset because her parents are here,” Eola had explained to them both.

“But why? Doesn't she like them?” Lucia had asked, confused.

“Don't they like her?” Sissel had whispered nervously. “Do they hit her like Papa used to do to me?”

“No!” Eola had cried. “At least, I don't think so. But they don't like her living with humans, and they really don't like that she married Da.”

“Don't they like him?” Sissel had asked then tilted her head as it occurred to her lots of people didn't like their Da. “I mean, less than Nords do?”

“You're a Nord!” Eola had laughed. Sissel shook her head stubbornly.

“No, I just look like one. I'm a Rhanyeen-vira on the inside! It's why Papa didn't like me. He could tell I wasn't really a Nord.”

“I'm not sure your Papa liked anyone, but you're definitely one of us now,” Eola had said with a smile. “And so's your Ma. Despite being an elf. Only her parents don't like that at all. So that's why your Ma's upset. And Da's unhappy because she's upset. But don't worry, gwanethai bach. They'll go home eventually and then everything will go back to normal.”

Lucia wondered what Ancalime's normal was like. She didn't think her parents hit her like Sissel's papa had, and they didn't starve her like her aunt and uncle had, but the little elf definitely looked unhappy. Lucia would miss her. 

“Do you think we'll see her again?” Sissel asked, also looking a bit sad to see Ancalime go. “Do you think Mama will take us to Alinor to see her?”

“Of course not, Sissel, Alinor's run by Thalmor. They don't let humans in,” Lucia sighed. “They don't like humans.”

“But if Mama was with us...!” Sissel said hopefully. Lucia really wished Sissel could get her head around the idea that even their Mama's powers had limits, although given their mother had shot a dragon down by shouting at it then taken its soul only yesterday, this was going to be a difficult task.

“That's worse!” Lucia sighed. “Thalmor hate humans, but they really hate it when elves marry humans and have kids with them! That's why they were upset with Mama!”

“Oh,” Sissel said softly, the truth sinking in. “Then... they won't let Cali write to us, will they?”

Lucia shook her head. “I don't think so. I'm sorry, Sissel.”

Sissel watched as the last of the trunks was loaded on the cart, the Thalmor soldiers seeming to have particular trouble with that one. Then the cart was trundling off, Ancalime watching sadly but her parents barely looking back. Once it was gone, Sissel turned to head inside.

“I'm gonna go find Skuli and Adara,” Sissel said quietly. “You coming, Lu?”

“In a bit,” Lucia said, seeing Shadowmere rearing up and kicking out and it taking all the stablehands' strength to restrain him. Which was odd, Shadowmere rarely shied at anything. Lucia didn't know what but something was wrong. “You go, I'll be along in a bit.”

“OK,” Sissel said and ran back into the city. Lucia watched as the ReachGuard ended up having to intervene, two of them slicing their palms open, holding hands and linking magicka to cast a particularly powerful calming spell on the horse, which didn't entirely work but lasted long enough to get Shadowmere penned up inside one of the stalls.

“Never again,” one of the guards muttered, magic flaring as she healed her palm. “I tell you, that bloody horse – if it wasn't the Brenhina's, I swear it would have been put down months ago.”

“If you can put it down,” her colleague agreed. “All the same, normally it's no trouble. Wonder what set it off like that.”

“Don't know, don't care,” the first guard sighed. “Don't know the first thing about horses, don't care to. All I care about is that they behave themselves and no one steals 'em.”

“Aye to that,” her friend agreed as they returned to their posts. Lucia was about to head back into the city when she noticed something else. A small, motley-clad figure crouching in the shadows.

“Hey Cicero. What are you doing?” Lucia asked. Cicero yelped, starting up and glaring at her.

“How?? How do you always do that, you do not even know Detect Life!” Cicero snapped. But a second later, he was relenting, recalling whose child Lucia was. 

“Hello sweet Lucia!” Cicero trilled, grinning up at her. “Cicero was merely enjoying the view! Cicero definitely isn't up to anything, oh no. Cicero is a good boy!”

Lucia had on many occasions asked her mother exactly why Cicero was like he was. The answers had never entirely satisfied, but Liriel had been able to tell her Cicero had lost his mother young and spent his entire life trying to get her back one way or another. The effort and loneliness had turned his mind, with the result Cicero hadn't really grown up properly. Lucia could believe that. She always felt a bit sorry for Cicero, although she was also wise enough not to entirely trust him.

“So what aren't you up to, then? Were you watching Cali and her parents go as well?”

“Me? Of course not!” Cicero said innocently. “Cicero certainly wasn't watching to make sure the venom-spewing troublemakers had definitely left, and he was certainly not planning to creep after them and stab them in secret for hurting sweet Liriel, no. And, er, if sweet little Lucia could not repeat that to her mama, Cicero would be most grateful and could certainly arrange for a few spare septims to fall into dear Lucia's pocket...”

“I didn't hear you say anything, Cicero,” Lucia said, knowing how this game went by now. “You'd never do anything you weren't supposed to, I know. I mean, as long you didn't actually stab Mama's ma and da, I'm sure I wouldn't know anything else. For three septims, I wouldn't remember a thing.”

Cicero cackled and slipped her three coins. “Cicero likes you, little one. Cicero thinks you are learning very fast.” He tilted his head, smiling knowingly. “So you were watching too. Cicero wonders, did the sweet Listener-child notice anything... odd? Unusual?”

“Shadowmere doesn't normally freak out like that,” Lucia said, trying to think what had been odd. Other than that, not really anything.

“No, he does not,” Cicero murmured. “Something is wrong, very wrong. But Cicero isn't sure what. Still, they are gone. Come, come little Lucia. Your mama is likely still in Vlindrel Hall. She went in to upbraid her lying and neglectful parents, but hasn't come out. Cicero worries. Cicero fears she is upset or unhappy. She and Madanach... quarrelled. There were words. Tears. Cicero fears for his sweet sister, he does! She has been kind to poor Cicero. Taken care of him when no one else would. Cicero... Cicero worries...”

He looked up at her, eyes wide and actually frightened. Lucia remembered her mother's words, that Cicero lost his mama and never recovered. Well, she knew what that felt like. If Liriel hadn't taken her in, she didn't know what she'd have done.

“We could go find her?” Lucia said, holding her hand out to him. If Mama and Da had argued... it didn't happen often. Most often it was just teasing and playful bickering, which usually ended up with playfighting which always turned into kissing, and then Da sweeping Mama off her feet and carrying her off to the bedroom with orders not to disturb them unless the city was under attack. It'd be ages before anyone saw them again, but they'd usually emerge looking a bit dishevelled but happy, Mama's face flushed and eyes bright and Da just smiling in a way he never normally did. He was always kind to Lucia and Sissel but right after time alone with Mama, he was at his kindest and most open, gentle and loving and attentive to Liriel in particular, but in a good mood with everyone. Then there were the more serious arguments where one of them was actually angry about something... but they'd only get to a point before one of them, usually Da, would stop and apologise and then they'd cuddle and have a quiet talk about whatever it was, and then it'd be all better. For Mama to have run away crying and be hiding in Vlindrel Hall, her old house from before she'd got married... Lucia felt scared at the very thought. Where was Da? Why'd he not gone after her? He might be king but he never let that get in the way of looking after his family. How could he look after the country if he couldn't care for his wife and children, was how he'd explained it to her once, then told her never mind if he looked busy or was holding court, she was to knock on the study door or get the attention of Nepos or one of the ReachGuard or Borkul. They'd let him know and he'd adjourn whatever he was doing. Unless the city was actually under attack or on fire, very little couldn't wait ten minutes for him to see what was wrong.

Given that whenever her mama got ill, Da would order hot soup from the kitchens and potions from Bothela and either deliver them personally or send them to her in bed with a little note attached, and to the Void with anyone who interrupted, Lucia couldn't imagine him not being there when she was crying. All was not well, and Lucia suddenly wanted very much to get a cuddle off her mother and check her family wasn't going to fall apart. 

Cicero smiled sadly up at her as he got to his feet.

“We should do that,” he said softly, and now Lucia was really worried. Cicero hardly ever looked worried or afraid. For something to get to him... something was very very wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is the one where they find Liriel's missing and Madanach's completely out of it, and basically all Oblivion breaks loose. I am anticipating great fun with it!
> 
> Gwanethai bach - little sisters. Rhanyeen-vira - true daughter of the Reach.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Reach's Queen is missing and the Reach responds - or at least it would if the commander-in-chief hadn't rendered himself completely incapable of responding to anything. With very few options left, it's time to resort to drastic measures - and when your king's got an addiction problem, staging an intervention takes on a whole new meaning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And after last chapter, we have now hit rock bottom and can now start climbing back up. Much like Madanach's going to have to, hem hem.
> 
> Trigger warning for substance abuse and after-effects, specifically Madanach on the tail end of a Skooma trip. Not to mention Lucia witnessing all this and really needing a cuddle.

Vlindrel Hall was locked and Cicero didn't have his key on him. Knocking and calling out to Liriel didn't work either. 

“Do you think she is sleeping?” Lucia whispered.

“Sleeping? Of course she is not sleeping, she hardly ever sleeps during the day unless she has been up all night, and she slept last night eventually,” Cicero growled, resuming the hammering on the door. “Listener? LISTENER! IT IS CICERO! OPEN THE DOOR! PLEEEAAASE?” Cicero fluttered his eyelashes at the unmoving door and pouted, despite the fact that no one inside could see it. “PLLLLEEEEEEEAAAASE? Cicero is WORRIIIIIIEEEED!”

Still no answer. Cicero huffed and kicked the door.

“Bother and befuddle. She does not answer. Why does she not ANSWER?”

Lucia shrank back, a little afraid of Cicero when he was like this.

“Does anyone else have a key?” she whispered. “Does Da have a spare?” 

Cicero stopped, looking up and giggling, smacking his forehead. “Of course, of course! Foolish Cicero! Cicero still has the spare key the Reach-King gave him! Sweet child, dear child, do not worry, just wait here. Cicero will return to the Keep and fetch it.”

So Lucia waited and it was nearly half an hour later by the time Cicero returned, brandishing the key and unlocking the door with a flourish, bouncing in without a care.

“Listener, Listener, dearest Listener, Cicero is here!” Cicero cooed as he pranced into the house. “Your dear brother is here to tend to you in your hour of need. Listener, oh Listener, where are youuuu?”

Lucia followed him, looking about her at the house that had once been home. She'd first come here with Argis, scared and tired and hungry after being taken prisoner by the Dark Brotherhood, missing her mother and wondering who that strange old wizard in the furs and bone had been and why his soldiers had come to rescue them. He'd said he was a king but Lucia knew there weren't any kings in Skyrim, not since King Torygg had been killed. So she'd not let her guard down for a second and by the time she got to Markarth and the soldiers had melted off into the wilds, she'd been exhausted. Then she'd got a cold not long after and her first few days in this house had been spent mostly in bed while Argis had made her soup and read her stories and by the time she felt better, Sissel had settled right in and Argis at least had proved beyond doubt he was a nice man. 

Now that old wizard was king in truth and her father, and Argis lived in Solitude with his wife Queen Elisif, and Lucia hadn't really lived here long enough to really call the place home... but all the same she had fond memories of the place. So she looked around... and as Cicero knelt down next to a semi-conscious Uaile, Lucia saw the silver and sapphire magicka-boosting circlet that the College of Winterhold had given her mother lying on the floor and she knew her mother was in trouble.

“Uaile? Uaile, why are you lying on the floor, the floor is not for sleeping on! Wakey-wakey!” Cicero cooed as he shook her shoulder.

Uaile's eyes barely fluttered open as Cicero shook her but she did see the jester hat and pawed at the motley.

“Gar'lan,” she murmured. “Gar'lan, need... stop them... Brenhina...” Uaile fell back into unconsciousness in Cicero's arms and Cicero took his hand away, seeing blood all over it from where he'd been cupping her head. 

“You are bleeding,” he whispered, going pale. “You are injured, you hit your head when you fell... you fell.” Cicero let her go and got up, racing into the back room, mind suddenly realising what had been wrong when he watched the Altmer family go. Lucia clutched the circlet she was holding to her, staring in horror at Uaile, talented ReachGuard warrior and personal assistant to Nepos himself, prostrate on the floor and injured, and Lucia knew her mother wasn't here. 

“Cicero,” Lucia whispered as she followed him into the master bedroom. “Cicero, I found this. It's Mama's...” She stopped, watching Cicero stare at the bed and the lighter patch on the floor that marked where a chest used to be.

“Three chests,” Cicero said softly. “They had three big chests when they left, and a little one for Ancalime. But when they came, they only had two! Because they have taken a third from the Listener's house.” He turned to face her, smile gone, lips curled back in cold fury, dark eyes blazing out of a pale face and Lucia whimpered, terrified. Cheerful, lovable Cicero had gone and this man was capable of anything. He lowered his eyes to the circlet in Lucia's hands and while his expression barely changed, something in his manner made Lucia want to turn and run. But she was a Dragonborn's daughter, and she stood her ground.

“They have taken the Listener,” Cicero breathed. “Sweet Liriel's parents have taken my Listener. Oh how they will _pay!_ ”

“Cicero?” Lucia whispered, and he was actually going to kill someone, Lucia knew it, he was dangerous, really dangerous and oh gods, no one else knew she was here with him... “Cicero, Uaile's hurt, we need to help her...” 

Cicero stared at her for a few seconds, as if she'd said something quite stupid. Then he laughed, shrugged and ran to the Reachwoman's side.

“Of course, of course! We must take her to a healer, yes, to the duty healer at the Keep. Come, come, sweet Lucia must follow Cicero! Cicero must tell the Reach-King this and then he needs his mace and his crossbow and armour and more daggers and poison and potions and various little trinkets and... yes. There is no time to lose, come!”

Cicero ran back into the kitchen, scooped Uaile up in his arms and raced for the door. Clutching her mother's circlet in her hands, Lucia had no choice but to follow. Mama gone, Cicero scaring her, Uaile hurt... Lucia didn't know what was going on. She was ten years old and terrified. But her father was back at the Keep. Da would make it all go away, wouldn't he?

~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Cicero had raced into the Keep, turning left into one of the many side passages and into the open all hours clinic that Madanach had opened in the first year of his kingship, emergency treatment free for all and non-emergency treatment free for all citizens of the Reach and any child regardless of nationality. All that was required was a tolerance of magic and experimental medical techniques and the occasional willingness to submit oneself as a participant in whatever magical research was going on that week.

Unless of course you were the Steward's right-hand woman and your father was the Field-Marshal of the ReachGuard, in which case everyone dropped everything to deal with the problem. Cicero left Uaile on one of the beds while about five Forsworn healers descended on her.

“What happened?” the healer in charge snapped at Cicero. “How'd she get like this?”

“Cicero found her lying on the floor of the Listener's house,” Cicero shrugged. “Cicero thinks she fell or was hit on the head. Possibly drugged. Now Cicero has brought her, Cicero needs to leave. The Listener is in trouble.” With that, he turned and walked away. Anyone other than the Garra-Lann and the healers would have ordered him stopped but they all knew not to push him without the King or Queen or Princess being around. Someone had already run to find one of them. Lucia, unsure what to do now, trailed after Cicero, who was heading for his room.

“Wait, where are you going?” Lucia cried. “Mama's out there and in trouble!”

Cicero stopped and turned to her, and something approximating kindness appeared in his smile.

“I know, sweet one. Cicero is getting his things and then he is going after her. Cicero will find your mother and bring her home, do not fear, little one.”

“Don't kill them,” Lucia whispered. “Please! Please don't kill Cali, she's my friend!”

Cicero did chuckle at that.

“Dear child, do not fear, the little elf is safe from me. Cicero would not harm her. Cicero will bring her back too, after all it would not be right to leave a little orphan girl all on her own, would it?”

“Cicero!” Lucia cried, but before he could answer, Eola appeared, flinging her arms round him.

“Cicero, there you are, what's wrong? I could feel you from across the city! What's happened? Why is Lucia upset? What did you do?”

“I didn't do anything!” Cicero protested. “At least... not yet. Sister, sister, the Listener is in trouble, there is no time to lose!”

“Liriel?” Eola asked, puzzled, and then she saw the circlet in Lucia's hand's, the one Liriel had been wearing that morning, her favourite one that massively boosted her magicka and that the previous Archmage had given her. “Oh sweet Lady, where did that come from. Liriel would never leave that behind!”

“It was in her house,” Lucia sniffled. “On the floor, near where we found Uaile. Eola, I think someone hurt Mama! And they took her away!”

“Her parents have abducted her,” Eola breathed. “Sithis' sake. Cicero, there's no time to lose, take Shadowmere, get your things, go. When did they leave?”

“About an hour and a half ago,” Lucia whispered, fighting back tears. Mama, Mama, she desperately wanted her Mama to hold her and tell her it would be all right... but she wasn't here and it really wasn't all right. “Eola, please, Cicero's going to kill them!”

Cicero had cackled gleefully, already sprinting off to gather all his things. Eola patted Lucia's cheek gently.

“Sweetie, they've taken your ma prisoner. She's Brenhina of the Reach, abducting a lawful ruler or their family, that's not just illegal, that's treason or an act of war. Da's entitled to execute the pair of them for this. Sending Cicero just makes it that bit quicker with less paperwork and Da is all in favour of less paperwork.”

“But they're Cali's parents!” Lucia cried. Eola nodded sadly.

“I know,” she said quietly. “But Cicero wouldn't hurt Cali any more than he would your ma, and he'll bring them both back. We'll look after her, Lulu, I promise.”

“That's not the point!” Lucia cried, horrified at how Eola could just accept her own husband going off to murder Liriel's parents. “We have to talk to Da, he'll stop it, even Cicero listens to him!”

“We should definitely tell him, he'll want to know if his Matrimony Bond didn't already tell him,” Eola agreed, and then she frowned. “No, seriously, it should have told him she'd left the city, even if Liriel was taken by surprise and knocked out. If she's conscious, how could he not know she was in trouble? They argued but the bond's still there, and he still loves her.” Eola turned to look in the direction of the Royal Quarters, worry all over her face. “He should be out here snapping orders or at least wanting reports, and he's not, where is he?”

“He's not on his throne?” Lucia asked, alarmed. But Madanach had only just re-opened court after the holiday for the wedding, why wouldn't he be ruling? He'd argued with Mama, really seriously argued with her from the sounds of it, and if Lucia had been scared before, now she was terrified. Maybe Madanach guarded his time jealously but he was usually fairly serious about administering the kingdom.

“Come on,” Eola said, breaking into a run. “We need Nepos. He wasn't far behind me.”

Nepos, no longer a young man, in fact he was older than Madanach, came running breathlessly from the court room.

“Eola, what happened? What's Cicero done now?”

“He's going to kill Liriel's parents!” Lucia cried. Nepos just blinked.

“I... see. That would be awfully tragic, yes indeed. Have they left the city then?”

“Over an hour ago,” Eola said. “Nepos, we think they took Liriel prisoner! She went to Vlindrel Hall to talk to them and now she's missing! Lucia found her circlet and Uaile was found unconscious. She's with the healers now. Cicero brought her in.”

“And Cicero is presumably going after them now to retrieve Liriel – well, if they have taken her, I can't think of anyone better placed to retrieve her than him, other than the King himself of course. We are sure she's not in the city?”

“She wasn't in the house,” Lucia whispered, wiping a tear away. “We searched but she wasn't there, just Uaile with her head bleeding and lying on the floor, and the circlet and the chest in her bedroom gone. Cicero thinks they took the chest with them and Mama was in it – they had three chests and the third looked like hers, it was heavy, Nepos, I want Mama!”

Lucia didn't cry, she'd learnt from her aunt and uncle that crying didn't do any good, it just got you a worse beating. But the tears were rolling down her cheeks anyway and then Eola was kneeling next to her, brushing them away and giving her a hug.

“We'll get her back, sweetie, I promise.”

“Yes we will,” said Nepos, not kneeling because at his age that was always a perilous undertaking, but patting Lucia on the back gently. “Come on, let us go find your father. I'm a bit concerned he's not out here rallying the entire ReachGuard. He wasn't tired enough to sleep, so he's either too depressed to care, has been ransacking his entire drinks cabinet or... we need to find him.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Borkul was standing guard outside Madanach's bedroom door as the three of them approached, and he stood up and barred the way.

“Boss said no disturbances. Not even you two.”

“Oh come on, Borkul, it's important!” Eola pleaded. “What's it worth, hmm? You let Liriel in for a shiv when you were inside, and she was a stranger to him back then.”

“Yeah, cause not only had he not ordered her kept out, he'd actually told me we'd likely be getting a new inmate and when she showed up, he wanted to meet her,” Borkul growled. “If I wanted a little toll off her first, that's no one else's business. You two were specifically told not to bother him.”

“Yes, and normally I'd respect the King's privacy completely,” Nepos sighed, although everyone knew Nepos respected absolutely no one's privacy and was the worst gossip-hound in a Keep full of them. “However, it's vitally important we speak with him immediately. The country's future is at stake.”

“When isn't it?” Borkul snorted. It was at that moment Lucia could take no more.

“Mama's missing!” Lucia cried, clutching the circlet. “We don't know where she is! Cicero thinks her parents abducted her and he's gone after them! I think he's going to kill them!”

“Good on him – wait, Liriel's missing? They took her?” Borkul looked over his shoulder, clearly torn between orders and necessity and then he looked down at Lucia. “Well, he never said anything about not letting you in. And his standing orders are that he's always available if you and Sissel need him. All right, Lucia can go in and tell him what happened.” He stood aside and opened the door, waving her in.

Inside it was quiet, a bit too quiet, the fire burning low, but enough light to see by. Madanach wasn't at the table, but Lucia could see a figure lying on the bed once she'd made her way round the corner.

“Da?” she whispered, foreboding trickling down her spine. “Daddy?” He was lying face down on the bed, dressed in his favourite blue and gold robes, but torc and circlet off, one hand hanging off the side of the bed. 

No response. Lucia ran closer and yelped as she trod on something. It turned out to be a little glass bottle that had had some sweet, sticky substance in it once. Empty now though.

“Daddy?” Lucia whispered, crawling on the bed next to him, shaking his shoulder. “Daddy, wake up, please...” 

Madanach groaned softly, eyes flicking open as he looked hazily up at her, and Lucia was shocked to see how pale he looked. Pale, covered in sweat, and his eyes... Lucia could barely see the irises, just the inky black of pupils dilated far far beyond what they should be, and the whites of his eyes were horribly bloodshot.

“Say wha...?” Madanach murmured, seeming to stare right through her. “You're a bit young to be in here, aren't you? Nords arresting kids now?”

“Daddy, it's me, don't you recognise me?” Lucia gasped, but he just looked confused.

“Kaie? Kaie, cariad, your eyes are the wrong colour. And... I had a dream you died, I had to do your funeral. It was horrible... but you came back to me!”

Lucia remembered Kaie, hair a similar colour to hers but a grown woman in Forsworn gear who'd wielded magic with a skill like Liriel's and had cheerfully told her and Sissel not to worry, she wouldn't let anyone take them prisoner again. Lucia had liked her. She'd only met her the once but they'd become friends on that trip back to Markarth from Falkreath. Kaie had been nice to her, kind and understanding and apparently a friend of Cicero's. Lucia had been heartbroken to hear she'd died, and one thing that had helped bond her to her new father had been timidly asking him if she could visit Kaie's grave, and to her surprise he'd looked sad but smiled and said of course. They'd gone out there next Loredas and spent the day out there, lazing around in the sunshine and having a picnic and talking about her. That day, Lucia had learnt an awful lot about her new father, and families in general, and what Kaie had been like, and that losing a child was the worst thing that could ever happen to you and Madanach had no intention of it ever happening again.

“But I'm not really your little girl,” she'd said as he'd cuddled her. He'd smiled and ruffled her hair.

“Yes you are,” he'd told her. “Kaie was your age when I got sent down and I missed so much of her life. I can't make it up to her, but I can make it up to you. So by my right as Reach-King, you're officially my daughter and I'll look after you, how's that sound?”

Lucia had clung on to him, lost for words. He'd never needed to do anything else to win her over after that. She'd adored him and he'd been as good as his word and looked after her. Until now.

“Borkul! Eola! Nepos! Daddy's ill! He's not waking up properly!”

Borkul promptly ran in, sprinting up to the bed, eyes widening in horror as he took one look at Madanach.

“Madanach, you stupid, _stupid_ bastard! Nepos, _get in here!_ ”

Madanach's eyes flickered as he looked up at Borkul, sly grin on his face.

“Oh hey, Borkul. Want some, did ya? Too late, I drank it all. Unless it was something else you were after...”

“Knock it off, your daughter's here for Malacath's sake,” Borkul growled. “Lucia, somewhere around here there'll be a little bottle, wide at the top, narrow at the bottom, kinda purple colour.”

“Like this one?” Lucia said, holding it up and Borkul actually recoiled from it, shaking all over.

“That's it,” Borkul gasped. “No, I don't want it, give it to Nepos _right now._ ”

Nepos was making his way up the steps that led to Madanach's bed and his eyes took on the same shocked look that Borkul's had as he saw what Lucia was holding.

“I'm not seeing this, am I?” he said incredulously. “Don't tell me that at the exact moment we need our King, he's flung himself well and truly off the cart?”

“Off the cart and into the juniper bushes,” Borkul growled. “Madanach, I am so disappointed in you. We all thought you were better than this.”

“Da?” Eola by this time had come running, staring down at her father in shock. “Da, what happened??”

Madanach did look up on hearing her voice, looking even more confused.

“Mireen?” he said vacantly, and Eola, who never normally came close to crying, let out a little sob as she shook her head.

“Mireen, you cut your hair...” Madanach slurred. “Hey, cariad. You were right, you know. It wasn't your fault at all. It was me all along, I'm a terrible husband! I break everything I touch. Shouldna be allowed to have a family. Tell the kids I'm sorry?”

“What happened?” Eola whispered, horrified. Nepos took the bottle off Lucia and showed it to Eola.

“Skooma happened. I don't know where he got it from but he apparently had some stashed away, and has decided sobriety was overrated.”

Eola sank down onto the bed, stunned. 

“But... but he can't have done, he's clean. I mean, I know he took the stuff in prison, but he's not had any since, not even tried finding any! Why do it now, well all right yes, I know he was upset over Liriel, but... but he knows it's dangerous! Why'd he take it? He's not addicted or anything...” Her voice trailed off at the looks on Nepos and Borkul's faces. “But he isn't, he just isn't the type, he's in control of himself, he doesn't go hitting up dealers at night or anything. He's not an addict!”

“He was inside for twenty years knocking back the stuff,” Borkul said quietly. “Course he's an addict.”

“What's Skooma?” Lucia whispered, coming to cuddle Eola, looking as terrified as Eola felt.

“Bad stuff, bachgen,” Eola said softly, holding on to her little sister. “Very bad stuff. And our Da's just taken some.”

“Is he going to be all right?” Lucia whispered, choking on her tears.

“I'll go and get the healers,” Borkul said quietly. “Need to get him some purgatives and antidotes and then sort out some meds to stop it happening again. Not gonna be pretty but not like we've never done it before. Just never thought it'd be him.”

“You do that,” Nepos sighed. “Also get some of the ReachGuard in here after, I want this room scoured from top to bottom to make sure there's no more in here. I'll deal with what's left of this.” He got up, motioning for Eola and Lucia to follow, sitting them down at the table while Borkul left to get help. Madanach had collapsed back on the bed, muttering something about being a terrible man, a vile selfish excuse for a human being and it was a good thing Sanguine loved him, no one else ever could.

“Who's Sanguine?” Lucia whispered. Eola had gone pale, gritting her teeth in fury.

“I think I know how the Skooma got here,” Eola growled. “Never mind that now. Nepos, Liriel's missing, Lucia's terrified, Da's rendered himself completely useless and my husband's out there after blood. And I hate to say it, that last thing is our best hope. You say what you will about Cicero but he will never let his family down.”

“No, he never would,” Nepos sighed. “Eola, I hate to say it, but we're down to our course of last resort. Our Queen's a prisoner of hostile enemy forces – her parents wouldn't hurt her, but if they take her to the Embassy, or back to Alinor... once the Thalmor machine has her, anything could happen. Thanks to Madanach's little argument with her this morning, they might even be able to make some sort of claim she's no longer Queen.”

Lucia gripped Eola even tighter. “But they can't say that, she's married to Da!” Lucia wailed. “She can't leave him!”

“She doesn't want to, honey,” Eola said softly. “We're gonna get her back and then the two of them are going to sort themselves out, you just see.”

“We can but hope,” Nepos said, smiling faintly. “But in the mean time, Liriel is gone and our best hope of finding her is presently off his face on a banned substance. And had he been sober still, his empathy bond with her would have told him she was in trouble. He'd have been locking down the city and ordering the ReachGuard after her the moment he sensed trouble. As it is, we've lost two hours nearly, even Shadowmere's got limits and Cicero's just one man, and he's not the one bonded to Liriel.”

“Don't you count my ceilin out just yet,” Eola said fiercely. “He just went past Blind Cliff Cave. Speed he's going, he'll be past Broken Tower in the next hour. He'll find them, don't worry. They're on a cart, they can't go off-road. Meryndor's not a warrior, nor is the driver, it's just two Thalmor soldiers and Mama Liriel. Cicero's a match for them.”

“She's a veteran of the Great War and the Oblivion Crisis, you really think Cicero can fight all three of them on his own? Well, maybe you're right, but we can't take chances. We need to respond and our commander-in-chief is presently not fit to run a village fair, never mind the Reach. We have no choice, Eola. I'm invoking the Act of Regency.”

“The Act of what?” Eola said, puzzled. She'd not heard of that one. “What does it do? Declare martial law or something?”

“No,” said Nepos softly. “No, it's, well, traditionally if a Reach-King or Queen or any leader turned out to be completely incompetent or insane, the only solution was for a challenger to gain sufficient support to take over and that invariably involved killing the incumbent. Your father became chief of Karthspire that way.”

“I know,” Eola said, remembering the story of how she'd had an uncle Kelvan once, before she was born. He'd been Mireen's younger brother, barely twenty or so when their father had died and Kelvan had become chief, chosen over Mireen because women weren't chiefs back then. He'd turned out to be a licentious waste of space, using and abusing his power to gather a harem of women, insisting on a right of seniority that gave him first pick of the tribe's young girls up for initiation, whether they wanted him or not. After three such incidents, virtually every parent of a daughter in the tribe was visiting Madanach and Mireen in secret, begging them to help. As a father of a young nine-month-old baby girl, Madanach was sympathetic, and when Kelvan decided sixteen was an arbitrary age of consent anyway, and girls could be up for initiation as soon as they started their monthly bleeding, Madanach decided enough was enough. Three weeks later, Kelvan met his end with Madanach's boot forcing his head into the Karth while his Destruction magic froze the entire surface of the river solid, and Madanach was chief. The rise to power had started there.

“I'm sure you do,” Nepos said. “Well, Madanach and I discussed the matter and decided there had to be a better way of allowing unjust rulers to be reined in without either a civil war, bloody coup or the Dark Brotherhood getting involved. So we thought about it and came up with the Act of Regency, in which if the ruler turns out to be unfit to rule, a Council of Regents can form, comprised of the Steward, Field-Marshal, First Matriarch, Consort if there is one and there invariably will be, and the heir to the throne. Also if the ruler has a living parent, they can take the consort's place. They take over instead of the ruler until said ruler is fit to return. We need three of the five to declare regency, and all five to give assent within the first month as chances are they won't all be in the city at the time. You and me are here, the Queen's out of reach, but we can get someone porting out to Keirine to fetch her within the hour – I know her opinion on Skooma, she will not hesitate to back us. I can't imagine Uraccen will be terribly sympathetic to Madanach when he hears Uaile was hurt either. He's in Lost Valley at the moment but we can get him back here soon enough.”

“We're deposing him??” Eola gasped and Lucia's eyes had gone wide.

“You can't do that, he's King!” Lucia cried. “What'll happen to us?”

“Nothing, you'll be taken care of and loved as you always were, little one,” Nepos said gently. “Which would not be the case if Madanach had to be overthrown by force, I promise you. As it is, we're not deposing him. We're merely taking supreme executive power out of his hands until he's sorted himself out, and given he's currently staring into space babbling about what a waste of flesh he is, do you honestly think he's in any state to be giving orders to anyone? In fact, if he'd not specifically ordered that Eola and myself were not to disturb him, one of us would probably have been here and stopped him.”

“I'm gonna be Queen Regent,” Eola said faintly, fingering her wolf's head torc. “Gods help us.”

“Indeed, the council needs a leader and as current heir to the throne, you're the best option,” Nepos nodded. “Looks like less of a coup if the current heir is in charge. As it is, I have no doubt he'll be furious and may never forgive us for this, but he has largely brought this on himself.”

“Maybe it's better this way,” Eola said, mind racing as to how to play this. “Means when he's sober, we can send him after Liriel, and if he's not officially King, if he's taken a leave of absence from duty to sort his family woes out – yeah, that'll work. He's not a Skooma-addled mess, he just needs to focus on his family right now. If we send the ReachGuard after Liriel, that'll be an official response and the Embassy will get involved and cite it as official harrassment of their citizens, of which Liriel still is one. But if it's just a husband going after his wife, well, that's a personal matter and nothing to do with the government of the Reach. When he's done with that, we can have him back, get him into the Skooma addict treatment programme and start negotiating his return to power, right?”

“We can indeed,” Nepos said, relieved. “I knew you'd get it. Come on, Regent, I need to send word to Uraccen and get Keirine down here.”

“What's going to happen to Daddy?” Lucia said, clutching plaintively at Eola. “Will he be all right? And Mama, what about her?”

The door flung open and Borkul returned at the head of a small team of Forsworn healers, the leader of which took one look at Madanach and shook her head in despair.

“Of all the people... you know, I honestly thought he'd beaten it. Thought he'd survived all that time taking it without getting addicted. He's always seemed so functional and on top of it all. Crazy but he was always crazy from what Bothela tells me. Steward, Princess, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave, this isn't going to be pretty.”

“Come on,” Eola said softly, leading Lucia away after Nepos. “The healers are going to make him all better again, and then he's going to find Liriel for us. In the mean time you can stay with me and help me run court, yeah? I don't have any kids, so I guess that makes you next in line, hey? Nepos, can you get Sissel in here too? Need to tell her what happened and they both need extra guards watching them now.”

“Of course, but Lucia as heir? She's not royal by blood, not even a Reachwoman,” Nepos said, sounding a little dubious.

“Da wasn't royal by blood either, his father was a smelter-worker,” Eola said, arm around Lucia's shoulders and good heavens, the girl was nearly as tall as her now, what were they feeding her? “I don't have any kids, I don't have any other blood siblings but Argis and he's a Nord. The only other heir would be my consort, and are you seriously suggesting Cicero as potential King?”

“Of course not,” Nepos shuddered. “Fine, Lucia as your heir it is, not that I'm expecting you to die soon.”

Unless her father killed them all for this, of course. Eola certainly wasn't sure he'd still love her the same after she'd just helped dethrone him... but after seeing her all-powerful, all-conquering battlemage warrior of a father off his face on Skooma, she wasn't sure she'd ever feel the same about him either.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

It took nearly an hour but the healers worked their magic and the potions did what they were supposed to. Madanach finally emerged from the pool in his bedroom shaking, pale, feeling dreadful but back in the real world again.

“Back with us, boss?” Borkul asked gently, patting him on the back as Madanach finally finished towelling himself off and hauled his Forsworn armour on, his robes off for cleaning.

“That was horrific,” Madanach growled. “Don't sit there looking sympathetic, you let them do it! I told you not to let anyone in!”

“Yeah, that was before I knew you were gonna be in here shooting the moons!” Borkul snapped, arms folded as he glared down at his king. “Boss, I'm really disappointed in you. We all looked up to you, you know? Thought you were the strong one. That you'd actually done it, beaten the cravings on your own. Now look at you.”

“Yeah, well I never asked you to treat me like a god!” Madanach snarled, rounding on him with eyes still bloodshot from the Skooma. “I'm just a man, Borkul, same as any other. And I wasn't alone, I had a war to fight, I had Kaie and I had Liriel. Now I don't have any of that, do I?”

“No, but you've got a country to run, you've got Eola, Sissel and Lucia, you've got Argis and Lirela in Solitude, and Liriel's not completely lost to you if you sort yourself out,” Borkul said, glaring. “It was Lucia who found you, you know? She didn't know what was wrong, she thought you were ill. Poor girl's terrified. We told Sissel you'd taken some bad potions and weren't well but you were gonna be fine, and she's OK with that, but Lucia saw you, boss. Her ma's gone, you were out of it, the poor girl thought she'd be back on the streets as an orphan again.”

Madanach's anger faded as that realisation hit him. Maybe he genuinely believed himself unworthy of Liriel, but their daughters were another matter – and although Liriel had adopted them first before ever meeting Madanach, as far as he was concerned, they were his daughters now.

“She didn't,” Madanach breathed, horrified. 

“She did,” Borkul confirmed, actually pleased at the fear in Madanach's eyes. Good, if anything motivated a man to kick Skooma for good, it was their loved ones. A good sign indeed that Madanach still cared about his kids.

“I have to find her,” Madanach gasped, running for the door. Borkul got up and followed, grinning. Maybe Madanach had had a bit of a lapse... but he'd still held out longer than anyone else who'd been in that mine, and that was without any treatments. There was hope for the man yet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Lucia turned out to be out by the throne room, sitting on the steps of the Mournful Throne, more guards than usual around her. She was wearing Eola's silver wolf torc, which struck Madanach as a bit odd, but if Eola had said yes, he supposed it was fine. He was more worried about his little girl having seen him on Skooma – Dagon's balls, had Sanguine gone by that point?? He hoped so, and Borkul hadn't said anything about anyone seeing him entwined with a big Dremora. Good, Madanach had enough problems right now, such as calming his daughter down, calming his court down, getting back to work and trying to work out how to get his hands on more Skooma without Nepos finding out – no. Stop that, right there, he didn't need Skooma, even if it did make him feel warm and safe and loved and summoned Sanguine back...

No. No, definitely not thinking about any of that, not with Lucia crying out and running over, clinging on to him and terrified, and dear gods he was the worst father ever.

“Lucia,” Madanach said softly, kneeling down to hold her. “Gods, Lucia, are you all right?”

Tearful shake of the head and Madanach held her tighter. Poor girl, the poor girl, she looked awful.

“Cariad,” Madanach breathed, kissing her forehead and holding on to her, and this was worse, worse than the potions they'd force-fed him, worse than all the physical unpleasantness of the Skooma being purged out of him. Little Lucia scared and terrified and it was his fault. Probably a good thing Liriel was gone, the girls could go with her and be cared for by a competent parent who wasn't a Skooma addict. 

_I'm a Skooma addict, aren't I?_ All that time hoping he'd dodged the arrow, inventing creative punishments for anyone stupid enough to deal in the poison in his kingdom, searching the Khajiit traders every time they arrived to make sure they only had raw moon sugar and not the distilled variety, using Restoration magic to stop the shakes, burying himself in work, getting Keirine to come to Druadach within days of escaping to get the Skooma they had with them dealt with, relying on jenever and Liriel and thoughts and fantasies of Liriel to occupy his downtime with... and it hadn't changed a thing. One more thing to blame the Nords for, landing him with this.

“Daddy, are you all right?” Lucia whispered, clinging on to him. “Eola said you'd taken something bad, that you weren't well...”

“I'm not,” said Madanach quietly, still feeling nauseous and sore and hungry and exhausted on top of the guilt and self-loathing. “But I will be... I think. Lucia, I'm sorry, so so sorry, you should never have had to see me like that. It's been over a year, well over a year since I last had any, not since I was inside... you know I was in prison once, right?”

“Yes Da, Mama said,” Lucia said quietly. “Are you going to take any more?”

_Yes._

_No._

_I don't know! I'm frightened and I want Liriel back. But I can't have her..._

“No,” Madanach said, knowing nothing less would make Lucia stop being so frightened, and actually feeling relieved to say it. He'd promised his little girl, so he'd have to keep it now, right? Simple as that. Simple. Right. “No, I was just... your mother and I... Lucia, I don't know what you may have heard...”

And this was the bit he'd been dreading, breaking the news of the impending divorce to his children and dammit, why had Liriel had to adopt two little girls in the first place, and why did they have to be so adorable, why had they ever called him father, why had they decided to love him, why, couldn't they see he was a terrible human being? 

“Her parents took her prisoner!” Lucia cried, and whatever Madanach had been expecting, it hadn't been that. “They hurt Uaile and knocked her out and they did the same to Mama and put her in a trunk and took her with them! Cicero went after them, I think he's going to kill them! Daddy, you have to do something!”

Madanach felt his entire world contracting, everything grinding to a halt as everything came to focus on one thing. Liriel a prisoner, Liriel in trouble, Liriel not sent away or gone of her own free will but _taken_. 

Madanach focused on the empathy bond, weak and fragile but there, still there and looked for her. Further away than he'd like, far to the north-east, heading for Solitude most likely. And she was screaming. Now the Skooma was out of his system and he wasn't blocking her, he could feel it, howling fury and rage alternating with desperate pleading and then for long stretches, just this odd calm focus. There weren't any words but he could sense the sentiment behind it all too clearly.

_Madanach, help me._

“I'm coming for you, cariad,” Madanach whispered, focusing on her as strongly as he could, wrapping the thought of her in fierce, protective love and hoping she could feel it, and wonder of wonders, he could feel her responding, surprise, anger, hope... love.

Navigating emotional problems had never been Madanach's strong point, it had to be said. But give Madanach a practical problem to deal with, preferably the sort best solved by raining fire and death on some unfortunate soul, and he was all over it. 

“I'll find her,” Madanach promised, kissing Lucia on the cheek. “I'm leaving right now, as soon as I can get the ReachGuard organised – in the mean time, I need you to stay in the Keep and be good, and we need to get your sister in here as well...”

“She's in her room,” Eola cut in, and Madanach slowly got up to see Eola sitting in his throne... with his torc around her neck. “I already had extra guards assigned to Sissel and Lucia both, and I will say your goodbyes for you. Uraccen is on his way back, Keirine is here, the ReachGuard are already on alert and I have given orders to seal the borders and restricted teleportal use to government use only, my authorisation required. You just need to grab whatever things you need and get your arse out of this city and after Liriel. I assume you're quite done getting off your face?”

Far too like her mother, and Madanach narrowed his eyes. Eola was glaring at him, Nepos was sitting next to her with his arms folded, and somehow Keirine had got here, on Eola's other side, illusions in place that made her look like a perfectly ordinary old woman, and yet that somehow made the disapproving frown worse.

“What is this,” Madanach said quietly. “Daughter, that is my torc you are wearing – no, that is the official badge of office of the Reach-King or Queen, which you assuredly aren't just yet, what have you done?”

“I believe it's called staging an intervention,” Nepos put in. “I think that's what happens when someone has a problem and refuses to admit it.”

“Sitting them down and giving them a good talking-to, yes, not _stealing their torc!_ ” Madanach looked at the three faces of his closest friends and kin all glaring at him, recalled Uraccen was also on his way back, and realised what they'd done. “By Sithis, Eola, you backstabbing, treacherous, bitch-”

“That's enough!” Borkul said, moving in and wrestling Madanach back before he actually did go for Eola. “Boss, you need to calm down, you have other problems.”

“I am your _father,_ damn you!” Madanach roared, still struggling in Borkul's arms, quietly pleased to see at least a flicker of upset on Eola's face... until she got to her own feet, shaking her head in quiet disgust.

“My father was a mighty warrior king who the whole Reach feared,” Eola said, eyes as cold and hard as her mother's ever had been. “My father was a terrifyingly competent warlord that controlled everything in this country, pulling the strings even when the Nords ran it. Had my father been in charge today, Ma and Da Dragonborn would have got as far as Salvius Farm before the ReachGuard caught up with them and busted Liriel out of there! As it is, no one knew she was even gone until an hour after they'd taken her, because the one who was empathy-bonded to her, who would otherwise have known she was in trouble, was _getting wasted on Skooma!_ ”

It was true, it was all true, Madanach already knew he was the world's worst husband who did not deserve Liriel in his life in any way, shape or form, but there was really no need for Eola to be quite so harsh over this.

“It was the first time in eighteen months!” Madanach protested. “I'd had that bottle for nearly a year and done nothing with it!”

“If you'd had any sense, you'd have given it to me or Nepos to get rid of months ago,” Keirine snapped. “As it is... brother, what have you done to yourself?”

“It's not my fault I ended up in prison!” Madanach protested, but none of the three looked remotely impressed.

“Not Liriel's fault she ended up in a trunk bound for Alinor either, but thanks to you and her parents that's exactly where she is,” Eola said bitterly. “Da, I don't care about the Skooma, I don't even care about you and Liriel arguing. But I do care that my little sister's upset and that my husband's out there on a crazed rampage and my _best friend_ is in trouble!” Eola took a few deep breaths to calm herself and stared back at him, anger finally fading and Madanach felt the guilt flare up again as he realised his twenty six year old daughter was no less worried than the ten year old – she was just hiding it better. 

“Daughter, I'll find her. I promise,” Madanach said fiercely, already considering his options. So they'd invoked a regency – well, could have been worse. As it was, he had more important things to worry about. Liriel was in trouble, and if anything happened to her, he wouldn't care about the Reach or anything else anyway. “I'm going to need a few of her things – and my robes, where are they?”

“Being cleaned,” Eola sighed. “What exactly did you get up to in there – actually, don't tell me, I don't want to know. Either go like that or wear that old gear of Harkon's.”

Well, the vampire armour did have strange effects on Liriel, it had to be said. What it said about her that she liked killing powerful men, taking their things and then getting her husband to dress up like them, Madanach didn't know, but he'd accept the gifts.

“Take her circlet as well, she'll want it back,” Eola said, handing it over. “Also, I think you'll be wanting these.”

Eola held out her hand. In it were two gold diamond rings. His and Liriel's wedding rings.

“Bit premature, isn't it?” Madanach said roughly, hiding the effect seeing them again was having on him. “I'm not even sure she'll still want me after all this.”

“Nor am I, to be honest, but if you go down on one knee and offer the ring back, she might just take pity on you and say yes,” Eola said, faint smile on her face. “Go on, take them. You might need them.”

Madanach accepted the rings and slipped one on each hand. Mara's rings, not a traditional Forsworn custom at all, but the Reachmen were adopting worship of the Eight alongside the traditional gods of Anu/Auriel, Sithis, Yffre and Magnus. Mara and Dibella had been particular favourites, adopted without hesitation into a pantheon previously devoid of goddesses (although the Night Mother was also a late addition, and there'd always been the Daedra). Madanach wouldn't exactly call himself a follower of Mara... but Liriel was an ardent devotee of the goddess of love and family life. A little prayer to Mara to take pity on Liriel if not him couldn't hurt.

_Dear Mara, please help Liriel find happiness. And... please help me save her. And... I still love her, if there's any chance I can actually make her happy instead of ruining her life... please._

“I'll need ten minutes to get equipped,” Madanach said, mentally cataloguing the contents of his and Liriel's room. “Also I'll need Borkul.”

“Damn right he's going, I'm not letting you go on your own,” Eola snorted. “Anything else?”

“Yes. Get the teleportal warmed up, I'll need to port out. It's the only way of catching up with her now, especially if Cicero's taken Shadowmere, and honestly I think I'd rather walk than ride on the back of that daedra-beast again.” Especially feeling like he presently did.

“You're going via Cwm Prendwemyn,” Keirine noted. “Good choice, we have a stables there, I'm sure you can requisition a horse and catch up that way.”

“I'm not going to Cwm Prendwemyn,” Madanach said, mentally rather proud of himself for having the foresight to set this up in advance. He knew he'd need it one day. “I'm going to Solitude.”

“Solitu- Madanach, there is no teleportal in Solitude,” Nepos said firmly. “Jarl Elisif was very firm that she was not having, and I quote, 'some cursed doorway to the Daedric realms' in her city.”

Madanach did indeed remember that conversation, and he'd not quite realised Elisif knew that many ways of telling a man off and been very grateful Argis was her husband and he'd not had to marry her for peace.

“Technically it isn't in the city,” Madanach said, biting back laughter at the looks on his sister, daughter and steward's faces. They might be able to take the reins of power off him, but he still had a few tricks up his sleeve.

“Are you telling me you've created an illicit teleportal gate somewhere in or near Solitude without the Jarl or anyone else knowing?” Eola asked, and Madanach couldn't help but grin.

“Maybe,” Madanach smirked. Keirine just shook her head.

“So that's why you needed those soul gems,” she sighed. “Dare I ask where it is?”

“Potema's Catacombs,” Madanach admitted. “Left fully open, but no one ever goes down there, place has been locked up tight since that whole Potema trying to come back business, and best of all, Liriel's key to the gate is right here. She got given one when they sent her down there, and no one ever asked for it back. So I crept off down there one day while visiting Argis and set a small portal up. Only takes a couple of people at a time, but that's all I need. I imagine my son, young Jordis and the esteemed Jarl of Solitude will be quite happy to provide any further assistance that might be required in the way of, say, shutting the docks, searching everyone wanting to get a ship, possibly having patrols at Dragon Bridge, getting a party together to intercept them before they cross the Karth, that sort of thing. So daughter. When your genius of a father has done all this and brought Liriel home, could he possibly have the torc and throne he was fighting for while you were doing who knows what back please?”

“For most of my lifetime, you were in prison, developing a Skooma habit and murdering your own people,” Eola said sternly, but there was the hint of a smile there. “Bring Liriel home and we'll all sit down and discuss it, hmm?”

If she still wanted to call the Reach home after all this. But whatever happened, Madanach knew one thing – he'd see Liriel free and happy no matter what the cost... and anyone who got in his way was going to pay dearly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cwm Prendwemyn - Deepwood Vale, second city of the Reach and former Forsworn camp far to the north. Home to Keirine the teleporting Hagraven, so obviously she was ideally placed to set up a teleport between there and her brother's city, Markarth.
> 
> Next chapter, the action starts hotting up as the rescue mission launches in earnest.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madanach's still coming to terms with Cidhna Mine's legacy, and the realisation that even getting Liriel back from her parents may not be enough to save his marriage. But he's still the man who led two uprisings, and he's got more than one adult child willing to help. Meanwhile, unbeknown to him, Liriel's far from helpless... and she's far from willing to abandon her marriage just yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting this because it's done and I may need to marshal my resources for the next one. This is the preparatory one before all the Void breaks loose, in which we check in with Liriel, and Madanach starts organising the rescue mission. Also managed to get in a bit of State of the Reach stuff as well - Madanach may have convinced himself he wasn't an addict but he knew half his core team were and little does he realise it but he's managed to create the best country in the world to be a Skooma addict in. Bastard only brought in socialised health care, didn't he. :)
> 
> Notes on the Rhanic:
> 
> Saorseach - Liberator  
> Breithan y Angwethai - Breaker of Shackles (shades of Daenerys, but it's not a title they gave to Liriel!)  
> Slan Gwasanaeth (y Rhan) - Health Service (also known as the Reach Health Service or SGR)

Madanach hadn't moved so fast in his life. Vampire Royal gear – check. Matching gloves and boots, the gauntlets with a magicka enhancing enchantment on them and the boots with a slightly stronger version of the usual Forsworn sneaking enchantment – check. Wedding rings – check. Liriel's circlet and torc – check. That ebony Dragon Priest mask from Skuldafn, bit heavy for Madanach but he liked the enchantments – check. Staff of Magnus for those little magicka emergencies – check. Liriel's pack with all her potions and oddments in it, or at least all the actually useful ones anyway – check. Liriel's fancy Daedric bow and a nice selection of arrows for Borkul – check. Chillrend and Spellbreaker for Borkul – check. Food and drink for the journey – check, in fact some bread and cheese to settle his stomach sounded quite a good idea. A week's worth of anti-Skooma medicines – what?

“Healers left them for you until you can sit down with them and work out a proper treatment schedule,” Borkul said grimly. “There's some painkillers and general healing potions to take when needed, some poison treatments – twice a day for the next three days, starting tomorrow, and those are your anti-Skooma meds. One every morning. You take anything with moon sugar in it, it'll make you ill. Really ill. Ill enough you won't be getting anything positive out of the experience. Trust me on that.”

Madanach looked at the little blue vials. He knew what they were of course, the saving grace of half his High Command, the thing Uraccen and Braig and Odvan and Duach all swore had helped them kick the habit. Apparently it was a lot easier to stay clean when you knew you actually couldn't take the stuff. There was also something in it that was apparently similar to Skooma but not addictive and didn't give the same high, that tricked your body into thinking you'd had some. 

_But I don't want to! I want the real thing..._ Or at least, he wanted something to wrap round him like a warm blanket and make him feel cared for again, being able to just let go and trust everything was all right and that someone loved him. 

“How long exactly am I supposed to be on these for?” Madanach sighed.

“For as long they're needed,” Borkul growled. “A year. A decade. The rest of your fucking life. Until you're not an addict any more.” He leaned closer, Orc eyes looking even more intimidating than most as he growled in Madanach's ear. “And you don't ever really stop being one of those.”

“I just took one little bottle-!” Madanach protested, then flinched back at the stony look on Borkul's face.

“Yeah, and your wife's ended up stuffed in a trunk and carted off back to Alinor as a result,” Borkul said firmly. “So take the damn potions with you, take them like your life depends on it. Because it does. And so does Liriel's, and your kids' lives, including Eola who doesn't think she needs anyone, and the lives of every single person in this country, because you are the damn Reach-King and we need you.”

“Not any more,” Madanach said bitterly, and that was what really rankled. After all the work, founding the Forsworn, leading the rebellion, not once but twice, and they could just kick him out like this. His own kin and his best friend.

“Hey,” and Borkul's voice had got gentler as he turned Madanach around, lifting his face up to look at him and to Madanach's surprise, the Orc was actually smiling. “Listen to me. You're only temporarily relieved. You'll be back in that throne before you know it. And anyway, you think you're completely on the scrapheap? They don't just call you Reach-King, boss. It's more than that. Saorseach, they call you. Breithan y Angwethai. You're the bastard who broke out of the prison they say no one ever got out of. You're not just a king, you're a damn legend.”

Liberator. Breaker of Shackles. How ironic he'd freed his country but not himself.

“I'm still not out of it, Borkul,” Madanach said, mentally cursing the Nords for everything they'd done to him, and wasn't this the last laugh – the one who'd brought them down brought down in turn by the Skooma addiction their bloody prison had left him with.

“Maybe not,” Borkul said, hands on Madanach's shoulders. “But you got us all out of there, had your Forsworn alchemists and Matriarchs working on anti-Skooma treatments, set that clinic up in the Keep with healers all trained to deal with Skooma troubles. You've talked me through enough relapses this last year and a half, same with young Odvan and the others, set the laws up and the policies that keep the stuff away from us, made it hard to track down Skooma even when we want it. Most other rulers just imprison dealers or send them on their way to the next province. Not you, oh no, you have the bastards impaled along the roadside or send the Dark Brotherhood in to investigate at the merest hint of a Skooma operation setting up in or near our borders. And anywhere else in Tamriel, addicts just get left to suffer. Fuck it, everywhere else it's perfectly legal to sack someone for Skooma addiction. You set up a rehabilitation programme and it's free for anyone who settles in the Reach after or already lives here. Wujeeta who runs the New Hroldan Inn, Niluva Hlaalu at the clinic – they both say your Slan Gwasanaeth turned their lives around.”

Madanach did remember both women arriving together – Wujeeta claiming Liriel had helped her once but the craving wouldn't go away, they'd heard the Reach could cure the addiction, please, they'd do anything, they'd sold all they had to get here, please...

He'd seen it in their eyes, the craving, need, seen the Skooma shakes that were wracking Niluva's body. He'd said yes, got them into the treatment programme, found them jobs – not brilliantly paid jobs but it was a living. Wujeeta had gone on to manage the rebuilt inn at what had once been Old Hroldan but was now New Hroldan, or Yroldain Nua in the Reach-tongue. Niluva had dedicated her life to helping out those with similar problems to hers and now worked in Understone Clinic. Both very productive members of society now and Madanach was rather proud of them both. He was fairly certain neither would be terribly proud of him once news of this got out.

“Couldn't go to all that trouble to keep my High Command clean and not share it out, could I?” Madanach said gruffly. “If they're clean, they're working, if they're working, I get their tax septims, right?”

“Right,” Borkul laughed knowingly, patting him on the back. “You keep pretending you're not still the idealistic crusader against injustice who started all this.” He stopped, staring Madanach dead in the eye. “You'll get through this, boss. We'll all get you through this. Any time you need help or someone to talk to, you let me know. Don't matter what time of the day or night it is, you come get me.”

“Ah, you don't have to do that-” Madanach began, until he found himself being squeezed in a bear hug. 

“Yeah I do. You did it for me enough times. Let me return the favour. Besides, I'm your bodyguard, aren't I? Meant to protect you, right? And half the time, boss, your own worst enemy is you.”

Madanach couldn't rightly argue with that last point.

“Come on,” Madanach said, sweeping the bottles into the pack along with everything else. “Let's get out of here. We've got ourselves a Queen to find.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Nearly there. Come on, nearly there. Liriel swore and cursed quietly to herself as she tried to get the Razor out of its sheath. They'd tied her up good and proper, and this was nice quality rope too, she was sure she'd not had this in the house, and why her parents had had this just lying around, she didn't want to know. But they had and here she was, stuck in a trunk, tied up and helpless.

She could hear them too, in particular her sister chattering away and that was what hurt the most. She couldn't even make a noise because it might upset Cali. But she wasn't completely out of options either, and her parents hadn't bothered searching her or emptying her pockets either, which meant she still had Mehrunes Razor, about five hundred septims in her coin purse and her lockpicks. Now if she could just get these bonds off, which meant getting the Razor out...

She had her hands round the hilt – foolish to have tied them in front of her, but clearly her parents had let sentiment get the better of them. Liriel had no intention of making that mistake when she got out. The plan – get her hands free, then her feet, then pick the lock from inside, wait until they got to Dragon Bridge, then make her escape, either causing sufficient chaos to slip away and make for Hag's End, or alternately letting the Haafingar Guard intervene, insisting on being brought before the Jarl and playing the Thane card if she had to. Maybe she wasn't Reach-Queen any more, but she was still someone in this country and she knew Elisif and Argis wouldn't let her down. Unlike her husband, and where was he anyway?

She wasn't sure. Far to the south-west, probably still in Markarth. She'd not been able to feel him, not since entering Vlindrel Hall. She'd felt despair and loathing from him, a twisted desperation that frightened her a little, but then it had faded out, just all disappearing and fading away and the last thing she'd felt was this burst of pleasure-relief-surrender and then nothing. It had broken her heart to realise how much he'd hated her, how pleased he'd been to finally block her out. 

_He doesn't love me any more._ Liriel didn't know how or why or what had changed, because before her father's ill-fated visit to the Keep, he'd seemed to love her as much as ever. He'd been worried, concerned, pleased to see her and then it had all changed and Liriel didn't even know how or why. All she knew was that a once loving husband seemed to have changed overnight into a seething morass of guilt and hate and despair, and while she knew he was prone to depressive moods, he'd always still wanted her. No matter how moody and depressed he'd got, he'd always clung to her and whispered for her not to go. 

Now he'd sent her away and Liriel understood none of it. All she knew was she missed him. 

Fingers tightened around the Razor's hilt and she slowly lifted it out, trying to get a purchase on the handle, but the angle was all wrong...

It slipped from her grasp, clattering to the bottom of the trunk. Liriel just managed to get a fist to it, silencing the noise, but it was clearly loud enough to be heard.

“Mamma, what was that?” Ancalime asked curiously.

“Nothing, darling, just something falling over in the trunk,” Sabrinda said soothingly. “Here, one of you two, sit on that one and stabilise it.”

Motherfetching Daedra balls. Liriel grimaced as the trunk creaked as one of her mother's guards sat on the lid. No bursting out of this in a blaze of glory in Dragon Bridge then. But there was always Solitude Docks. They had to get off it at some point.

Liriel was reaching for the dagger when she felt it. The bond flared back into life, Madanach's presence back in her head, and not passive either. Seeking her out, looking for her, desperation and worry, and only a little of the guilt and loathing she'd felt off him earlier. Clearer... cleaner.

Liriel called back to him, not quite able to believe it but willing to hope regardless. _Yes, I'm here, I'm in trouble, I need help, Madanach, you're an utter bastard but if you can help me..._ Well, that remained to be seen, but she'd take any offer of help she could get.

The response was immediate, a whole torrent of emotion that sent Liriel reeling, eyes fluttering closed as she gasped softly. She'd not felt a rush of affection like this in a long time, not since she'd got back from Irkngthand, having nearly drowned and been terrified she was going to die, reaching back to Madanach along the bond and telling him she was sorry, she loved him, she'd never forget him. But she survived and restored the Guild to something approximating its former glory with Karliah, Brynjolf and Sapphire as the new Nightingale Trinity (Liriel had been very firm she was having no part of any afterlife Madanach couldn't follow her to, and did not need Nocturnal's help to kill someone) and she and Cicero had, after making sure Sapphire definitely had returned the Skeleton Key and not run off with it herself, returned home. Where their terrified spouses had immediately pounced, hauled them off to their bedrooms for the full story and in Liriel's case, pinning her to the bed and reclaiming her, all fire and passion and hissing “you're mine!” and only afterwards clinging on to her and whispering he thought he'd lost her.

This felt a lot like that, with added notes of guilt and pleading and underneath it all, grim determination.

_I will find you, ceilhinama. And then..._

Liriel shivered a little in anticipation. Her husband was coming for her, the Hawk of Karthspire stretching his wings and preparing to fly. Not quite an angry dragon... but not far off either. Maybe her mother had survived the hordes of Oblivion... but she'd yet to face an angry Reach-King battlemage in his full fury.

Liriel still didn't entirely understand what was going on with her clearly quite deranged husband, but he clearly didn't hate her. She wasn't sure whether to entirely forgive him or not... but if he came good on this one, she'd definitely be willing to talk. Reaching for the Razor, she began to carve away at the bindings on her wrists, Daedric blade slicing easily through the ropes.

Not twenty minutes later, she felt Madanach vanish entirely... and then re-appear seconds later to the north. What the actual... had he just teleported? Where to? North east of here, which was all wrong for Cwm Prendwemyn. 

Gentle reassurance from him and a large dose of amusement, and Liriel was torn between wanting to slap him and wanting to kiss him. But he hadn't abandoned her. 

Madanach had an awful lot of grovelling and making up to do before Liriel actually took him back. But if he could give her a few satisfactory answers as to just what was wrong with him, she just might do it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

The first sign that anyone in Solitude had that something was wrong was the unexpected sight of an ageing Breton in purple and black armour and a silver circlet, and a huge Orc in traditional Orcish armour tearing out of the cellar of the Temple of Divines. This was followed by the Breton making the Orc pray at the Shrine to Arkay, all the while tersely telling him “it's fine, it passes eventually, lots of people get portal sickness, it's OK” and the Orc moaning “you're not telling me anything about that was natural, boss!”

But the Orc seemed to rally and the Breton was persistent, only stopping to pay his own respects to the Julianos shrine, grin smugly at the empty alcove that had once hosted a Talos shrine, and then bundle his guard out the door.

Jordis the Sword-Maiden was next to notice something odd when she heard a key in the door and Liriel not expected for weeks.

“Hope you're not here to cause trouble, what can I do for you, friend?” she asked, getting up and reaching for her sword... at least until she saw her Thane's husband walk in with his Orc bodyguard at his side.

“Sir! It's you, I didn't realise... are Liriel and the girls here?”

“The girls are back in Markarth, and your Thane's in trouble,” Madanach said without preamble, and if he looked paler than usual with horrible bloodshot eyes, Jordis elected not to comment. “Jordis, I'm going to need the Jarl's help and my son's assistance, but you're sworn to her service too, and I could do with all the swords I can get.”

“Say no more,” Jordis said firmly. “I'm right behind you, sir. Let me get geared up – what's happened?”

So Madanach had to explain that Liriel's own parents had abducted her and were bringing her to Solitude to get her on a boat back to Alinor, all the while averting his eyes and nudging at Borkul to do the same while Jordis changed into a set of ebony armour that actually seemed to have black smoke rising from it, along with matching helm, boots and gauntlets, a nice Elven bow and arrows, and a massive warhammer.

“Is that the Hammer of Malacath?” Borkul gasped, unable to take his eyes off it.

“Yes,” Jordis said smugly. “Liriel got given it ages ago and said I could have it. Pretty, isn't it?”

It was spiky and glowing and the head was bigger and heavier than an Orc's, clearly capable of smashing the unworthy into pieces. Borkul nodded, clearly smitten by it... or possibly just Jordis, Madanach did have to admit the girl was very pretty. Just not as pretty as Liriel.

“Come on,” he said, dragging Borkul away from staring lustfully at his wife's housecarl. “We've got a Jarl to appeal to.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Elisif turned out to be busy putting Lirela to bed, but Argis was always pleased to see his father. Maybe their relationship hadn't always been easy, maybe being the illegitimate half-Nord son of the King in Rags was a tough burden to bear for anyone... but Argis was devoted to his father and always had been.

“Da, what are you doing here? We weren't expecting to see you here so soon after the wedding, what's up?”

And there he was, strapping six foot Nord warrior, now wearing the fine clothes of a King Consort and a golden circlet, holding his arms out to embrace his father.

Madanach returned the hug, feeling something of the warmth and safety Skooma had given him, if in a far more muted form, and he was also acutely aware that Argis didn't know what he really was or that he technically wasn't King any more. In fact, probably best to keep that little detail quiet for now.

“Son,” Madanach said quietly. “Son, I need help, Liriel's in trouble, I need to speak to your wife immediately.”

“Liriel's in trouble?” Argis let him go, his full attention on Madanach now. “What happened? Where is she? When do we leave?”

“Sir, you can't just go haring out of the door just because your father says so,” Falk interrupted, glaring at Madanach. “You have responsibilities here, and it's for the Jarl to decide if we give any kind of official response...”

Argis gritted his teeth and turned to a passing servant. “Hey. Erdi. Can you get Elisif for me? It's important. Tell her Liriel's in trouble.”

“Of course, milord,” the servant girl nodded, dropping a little curtsey and running off to find her mistress. Madanach glanced at Falk and then back to Argis, raising an eyebrow.

“I can't honestly imagine Nepos telling Liriel she wasn't allowed to leave without my permission,” Madanach said, honestly wondering what sort of court they were running here.

“She'd have his balls,” Borkul grinned. “Not to mention yours, boss.”

“It's different here,” Argis said quietly. “More civilised. We're trying to set an example, you know?”

Of what, Madanach didn't ask, but he did wonder if perhaps he should invite Elisif to the Reach more often, give her a bit of a master class in how to run a country. Well, perhaps not, given that he was now no longer running one himself. However, if things didn't go so well in the Reach, there was always paying Cicero a few septims and getting him to deal with Falk on the quiet, then applying for his job. That'd be nice, retirement in Solitude, getting to see Lirela every day, helping Elisif deal with her Hold, spending time with Argis. Probably easier to get Skooma out here too – no. He'd promised Lucia.

“Argis, what is it – oh! Oh my goodness, Madanach, what are you doing here? And Jordis? Oh my. She really is in trouble, isn't she?” Elisif looked a little ruffled, probably something to do with her baby girl deciding her circlet was shiny and she wanted it, but otherwise every bit a queen.

“Her parents came to visit her,” Madanach said, repressing the anger that rose every time the thought of his in-laws came to mind. “They don't exactly approve of me.”

“Can't imagine why that might be,” Falk muttered under his breath. Madanach shot him a glare but decided to ignore him. He could wait.

“Madanach, I can't order your in-laws to like you,” Elisif said sympathetically. “I'm High Queen, not Mara.”

“They took her prisoner!” Madanach cried, not greatly caring what his in-laws thought of him at that moment. “Knocked her out, got her out of the city before anyone knew what was happening, they're bringing her this way, I think they're taking her back to Alinor. Elisif please, she's my wife, please help her...”

Elisif had grown increasingly more appalled as he'd gone on and before he could say anything else, she'd stepped forward and hugged him, squeezing him tight and patting his back much as one might do with a crying child.

“There, there,” Elisif whispered. “You poor man. Don't you worry, Madanach, we'll get her back for you. People can't go around abducting my Thanes and thinking they're going to get away with it! Falk! I want the port sealed. No one leaves without my explicit permission. Anything going on board any ship out of here to be searched before leaving. And I want guards at Dragon Bridge too, searching everyone who comes through the town but especially any Altmer travellers. I don't care who they are.”

“Jarl, don't you think this is a bit excessive?” Falk began but he took a step back on seeing Elisif actually growl and step forward.

“I gave you an order, Falk!” Elisif snapped.

“Yes my Jarl,” said Falk hastily. “But what if the Legion or Thalmor need to send ships out?”

“Then Elenwen and Rikke can take it up with me personally,” Elisif said tersely, clearly quite sick of having her authority questioned. Two years since Torygg died and she'd acquired a new husband and a little girl since. Clearly the 'too heartbroken to rule' days were behind her. Madanach couldn't help but feel rather proud of her. “We are sure she's coming this way but not here yet?”

“Sure,” Madanach said, feeling Liriel off to the south-west, no longer pleading but still worried. “Elisif, by your leave, I wanted to meet her on the road, see if we can intercept personally, but that'll be a lot easier if you can lend me some men and your consort...”

“Of course!” Elisif said, nodding at Argis who immediately ran off to get his armour. “But if you're ahead of her... how exactly did you get here so fast? Don't tell me, you used that heathen teleportal of yours then rode from Deepwood non-stop?”

“I used the teleportal, yes,” Madanach said, deliberately leaving out the bit about Solitude having one in its catacombs. Elisif tutted disapprovingly but mercifully didn't complain or ask questions.

“Well, I suppose even abominations have their uses,” Elisif sighed. “Anyway, don't you worry, Madanach, I'll go and organise everything. Meet the men by the stables in fifteen minutes – I'll make sure you and Borkul have fresh horses, I'm sure yours must be worn out.”

Elisif gave him one last hug and was gone to make sure her orders did actually go to the right people. As she left, Argis emerged in his ebony gear, Shield of Solitude on one arm and an ebony Sword of the Vampire at his side. Ulfric Stormcloak's old sword in fact.

“Exhausted horses. Right. And you such a horseman and all,” Argis said grinning, and Madanach schooled himself into the picture of innocence. Argis just patted him on the shoulder.

“I won't ask, Da. You got here and raised the alarm in time, that's the important thing. I just got one question. The Forsworn Bond of Matrimony's telling you where she is, right? So why'd you not notice her being taken?”

The question Madanach had least wanted to answer.

“We argued that morning,” Madanach said quietly. “I – may have been drowning my sorrows. It wasn't until much later it became apparent she'd not left of her own free will.”

“Drowning your sorrows.” Argis was staring down at him, having gone very still, apart from raising one finger to get a better look at Madanach's eyes. “You hit the jenever, right? Please tell me it was the jenever.”

Argis had guarded Cidhna Mine for over a decade, he knew half the prisoners were on Skooma. He'd turned the other way on Madanach's own orders while it got smuggled in. He'd seen men get re-arrested just because they knew the mine was a good source of Skooma. He'd seen the symptoms before now. There was no lying to his son about this.

“I'm sorry, son,” Madanach said, lowering his eyes. Well, there it was, out to his son, he'd be lucky if he ever saw Lirela again, and he could forget retiring to Solitude.

“Da, you... you didn't.”

Madanach couldn't even look Argis in the eye at this point. “I'm sorry, son. I'm not proud.”

“He's on the meds now,” Borkul said, patting Madanach on the back. “We'll take care of him, get him into the programme. He'll be all right.”

Argis didn't say anything, just pulling his father into his arms and holding him.

“I wondered,” Argis said quietly. “How you'd never got addicted when everyone else who came out of that mine was a complete mess. How you could just bust out of there and go back to normal, or normal for you anyway. Guess you didn't, huh.”

“Hey, he held out this long,” Borkul said, actually far prouder of Madanach than anyone had any right to be. “Longer than the rest of us managed, and that's without help or meds or anything. I think it was mostly Restoration magic and stubbornness.”

“Liriel,” Madanach said softly, reaching out to his wife again and feeling her at the other end of the bond, still there, still strong but he could feel her anxiety, and if he was having a bad day, hers was worse. “I had my Liriel. But not any more... Argis, please, we need to find her, I need my wife, she's in trouble, please.”

_Liriel, Liriel, I need Skoo- Liriel._ He need warm arms around him and Liriel there, Liriel whispering it was going to be all right. She'd always been the strong one really, far more than he was. He was just another warlord king. She was a dragonslaying hero of legend. He needed her like the air he breathed, and she was better off without him. But maybe that wasn't his call to make, he was starting to realise. At any rate, he was damned if her family were carting her off against her will.

“We're gonna find her,” Argis promised, patting his back. “We're gonna find her and get you two back here and then you and she can have a long talk, yeah? And Da... I still think you're the bravest man I know.”

“You possibly need to get out more,” Madanach said, but he couldn't help but smile. Eola might be disillusioned and furious, Lucia might be traumatised, he'd barely had a chance to see Sissel, but it seemed his son understood and still loved him. Madanach had never felt prouder of the man his son had become, and having been Argis's sole parent for five years, he was perhaps the child Madanach had been closest to at one point. Perhaps he'd not screwed up completely on the parenting front if Argis had turned out a good and honourable man who still loved his father even though said father was a complete mess. And if he could get one child right, maybe the rest of his life could follow, right? 

One step at a time. One day at a time. That was what the treatment programme advised. That addiction could happen to anyone, and it didn't mean you were hopeless or a fool. That there was hope for even the most wretched, but it wasn't an easy path. You just had to keep walking it with people who cared about you and with your fellow sufferers, and eventually you'd all get there together and if you fell off along the way, everyone else helped you up and you all kept walking. He'd said it to others often enough, he just never thought it'd be him. But he could see in his son's eyes that Argis wasn't even shocked, never mind surprised. As if he'd guessed it'd happen eventually.

“Thank you, son. I'm proud of you, you know that, right.”

“Yeah, I know,” Argis said, one arm round his father as they made their way out, Borkul and Jordis falling into step behind them. Time to go rescue the Reach-Queen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lirela would be Madanach's first grandchild via Argis and Elisif - only a baby at the moment but obviously Madanach dotes on her something chronic. Argis and Elisif may have married due to the peace deal that gave Madanach the Reach, but they're genuinely in love, very happy and Argis has been very subtly encouraging Elisif to stand up for herself more and generally taking a few tips off his father in how to be a ruler.
> 
> Liriel's Thieves Guild exploits are almost worth a fic in their own right but alas I don't think I'll ever get the chance to write them...


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cicero is homing in on his prey and Madanach and Argis are leading their rescue party to intercept. But Skyrim is a dangerous place, and an unexpected foe changes everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My word, this chapter. This is where the action happens. I suspect you won't have seen any of this coming. There is angst and fighting and drama and blood.
> 
> Ahmul - Dovah for husband
> 
> Agar y agarma - blood of my blood, traditional means of referring to one's sworn brother or sister.

One moment the carriage had been trundling along the road as the sun set. The next they'd been on them. Like elves but surely not, pale pasty white skin, smelling vile and no eyes. That was what stayed with Sabrinda the most – no eyes but they could clearly sense her well enough. She had a horrible feeling they were either using Detect Life... or they could smell her. 

There'd been arrows. There'd been magic. There'd been vicious blades carved of some chitinous material. There'd been what seemed like dozens of them.

She'd fought. Her guards had fought. Meryndor had grabbed Cali and shoved her to the bottom of the carriage, shielding her and warding them both. But there'd been too many. Her guards had died, their driver had died, the horse had died screaming. She'd never get the sound out of her head. 

Then they'd gone for the trunk with Liriel in it and Sabrinda had snapped, firing off spell after spell, using the gift of the Highborn to recharge her magicka, not stopping for a second. It hadn't been enough. They'd used the trunk as a shield and she'd not dared hitting it, and they'd used that, grabbing the trunk, hauling it off the carriage and then swarming the carriage while three of the feral beasts had carted it off. Sabrinda had shrieked abuse at them even while hurling fireballs at them. She'd been too crazed to realise they'd climbed on the carriage behind her... at least until Ancalime's screams rent the air.

“MAMMA! MAMMA!”

“CALI!” Sabrinda screamed, turning around just in time to see one of the foul creatures snatch up her little girl and disappear into the darkness, but Ancalime's screams kept on echoing off the cliffs. Their goal apparently achieved, the remaining fiends decided the dangerous one with the powerful Destruction spells was best left for another day, and as one they vanished into the night.

“CALI!” Sabrinda howled again, and them taking Liriel was one thing, but not her baby, not her little Ancalime, she was helpless, innocent, and why hadn't Meryndor stopped them... oh gods, Meryn...

He was lying on the floor of the carriage, staring up at her, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, arrows piercing his skin... and a horrific chest wound with blood pouring out of it.

“MERYN!” Sabrinda cried, dropping to her knees and reaching for the wound, heedless of the blood on her robes, dear Auriel, so much blood... but she could save him, she could seal the wound, she could...

He was staring at her, clearly in agony, trying to say something... and then the light seemed to fade out of those beautiful golden eyes as he slumped to the floor, eyes as sightless as the elves that had killed him.

“Meryn?” Sabrinda whispered, shaking his shoulder, Restoration spells flaring, she could fix this, right? Right? He couldn't be gone, not like this, not again, he was her husband, her soul mate, the father of her children, companion, friend and lover for four centuries, he couldn't be gone, he wasn't!

“Meryn,” Sabrinda sobbed. “Meryn, Meryn, no, beloved, please, get up, talk to me, please, please, please, you can't be dead, you can't be, don't leave me, _don't leave me!_ Please, please, no...” She clung on to him, sobbing into his hair, his gorgeous blonde hair, howling her grief out, and her husband was gone, her baby girls taken and not just the grief but the guilt gnawed at her – that a free Liriel could probably have fought them off, and if they'd not taken Liriel they'd probably have taken the teleportal back and then the carriage via the north road, and while it was icy and frequently the target of bandits, the western end was patrolled by ReachGuard who had permission from Jarl Elisif to patrol the highway on her side of the border to protect travellers. It was a much safer route than this one which had had frequent reports of traveller disappearances along this stretch, and the local Jarl didn't have the resources to patrol it, not like Madanach did.

Sabrinda would give her son-in-law his due, the roads in the Reach were by and large safe to travel, and you rarely travelled more than half an hour without running into a ReachGuard patrol, the strange tribal costumes that had once meant blood and death now representing order and safety.

She'd have given anything for a ReachGuard patrol to have turned up in time, even one arriving now could at least get her daughters back. As it was... she'd lost everything and it was her own fault. Ancalime's screams were still echoing in her head, taunting her for failing her helpless young baby girl. 

In the distance, she could hear hoofbeats, someone riding a horse, pushing it to its limits from the sounds of it, and at this point any help was welcome. Sabrinda staggered from the carriage, not caring how she looked or that she was covered in blood, just firing a magelight into a nearby rock and crying out for help from the rider.

When glowing red eyes loomed out of the darkness, Sabrinda realised that her evening had just got dramatically worse. It was that black daedra horse that Sabrinda had seen in Markarth stables, the wild dangerous one. And on its back was a human with black and red armour and a face out of nightmares. The red-haired jester she'd seen hanging around the Reach-Princess, who'd run to greet her like an old friend when he'd first seen her. The one who'd called her Listener.

“Sabrinda,” Cicero purred. “What a pleasant surprise.” He slid off the horse, left hand flashing out as he did and grasping her round the throat, and the momentum caused by his drop forced her to her knees. Cicero had flicked an ebony dagger into his free hand, poised to strike.

“Where is she,” Cicero growled and Sabrinda saw the armour, knew it, knew right then what he really was. Not a court jester but a Dark Brotherhood assassin, dressed in their Shrouded Armour, apart from the cowl, which had been replaced by the jester hat. Did Madanach know? Liriel? Eola? Of course they did, the Brotherhood had reacted viciously to an attempted contract against the Reach-King. Sabrinda remembered too Lucien's rank in the Brotherhood – Speaker. And she looked at the boots and gloves and realised Liriel had been wearing identical ones that morning. Liriel was a Listener of the Dark Brotherhood. Her daughter was an assassin, and high-ranked enough in their guild that she could give orders to all her fellows that Madanach was not to be harmed for any reason whatsoever. Did he know what his wife was, Sabrinda wondered, then laughed at her own foolishness. Of course he did. He'd probably killed more people than she had. Maybe he'd even recruited her. Despite Sabrinda's own career, she was ready to cry at the thought of her daughter out there killing people, and not even for honour or glory or to make the world a better place or anything. For money. She was part of the Dark Brotherhood... and it appeared the Brotherhood looked after their own.

“ANSWER ME!” Cicero howled, face twisted and grim in the magelight. “Where... is... the... LISTENER!”

“I don't know!” Sabrinda cried. “We were attacked! They took her! They took Cali as well, she's only a little girl, please!”

“Who took her. Where,” Cicero said, shaking her. “Tell Cicero. Tell Cicero and he shall make your end a swift one.”

“Elves!” Sabrinda cried, shaking all over but not afraid, no, not afraid of death. Meryndor was dead, her handsome, golden-haired husband gone forever and if she followed him, she didn't care about anything else. Just as long as her girls were all right. “They were like elves... but white skin and no eyes... I don't know where they took them, that way, I think. Across the river.”

“Falmer,” Cicero breathed. “They have a hive nearby then. Cicero had heard stories of disappearances, the Listener was considering investigating...” Cicero stopped and for a moment madness gave way to genuine sorrow before the professional mask descended once more. “Cicero thanks you, Sabrinda. Do not fear for Liriel. Cicero will find her. Cicero did not wait twelve years for her to lose her now. But as for you... for the sin of taking my Listener, for stealing her...! For your crimes, you will pay.” He raised the knife and Sabrinda closed her eyes, waiting for death to claim her, visions of her parents and Valiriel and Meryndor, gods, Meryndor, all waiting for her with arms outstretched to welcome her home.

 _Mara protect my babies. Auriel, take me home._ She waited for the knife-blow. It never came.

Lightning flashed out above her, far too close to the ground to be a storm. Cicero gasped and looked to his right, to the road up ahead, and Sabrinda could hear hoofbeats... and then a man's voice ringing out.

“THAT'S ENOUGH, GARRA-LANN! PUT HER DOWN!”

Madanach, and how he'd got here Sabrinda didn't know, but relief coursed through her veins as Cicero let her go, clearly as surprised as she was to see him.

“Reach-King?” Cicero said, confused. “But... how did you get here?”

Horses clattered to a stop, and Sabrinda saw several Haafingar guards, an ebony-clad woman with a huge warhammer on her back, Madanach pulling a strange ebony mask off as the Orc seated in front of him slid off his horse then lifted Madanach down without even seeming to flinch. And on the horse standing next to Madanach's was a Nord warrior in ebony armour... and a solid dragontooth crown on his head.

“Cicero, what is this? Did you do this??” Madanach demanded, and Cicero gasped in shock, fluttering his eyelashes as the fool persona resurfaced.

“Me? What? Never! Cicero didn't do it! Cicero did NOTHING! Cicero only just got here! It was like this when Cicero found it! Why do people always assume that just because there are bodies and a lot of blood and a knife in Cicero's hand that he did it??”

Madanach just shook his head wearily, exchanging looks with the Nord in the dragon crown.

“Because it usually was you,” the dragon-crowned Nord said, surveying the scene. Big burly Nord warriors didn't look horrified often but this one did. “Cicero, seriously, what is this? I can understand the guards and Liriel's parents but I'm going to have to bounty you for the driver...”

“CICERO DIDN'T DO IT!!!” Cicero shrieked, furious at being wrongly accused, but then the woman in ebony spoke up.

“Argis – I mean, my lord. I think he's telling the truth for once. Look over there. That wasn't a passenger on the carriage.” She was pointing at a body of one of the elves Cicero had called Falmer.

“There's another over here, sir,” said one of the guards. “And another... looks pretty charred though.”

“I think that was me,” Sabrinda said, feeling a bit light-headed. “Sorry.”

“Don't be, one less of those in the world is a blessing,” Argis growled. “They attacked you? You're lucky you aren't dead.”

Sabrinda thought about snapping back that she was a Justiciar of the Thalmor, she wasn't easy to kill. Then she remembered the madness in Cicero's eyes and said nothing. He was still glaring at her.

“Reach-King,” Cicero growled. “Brother. Agar y agarma. She took the Lis- she took Liriel Brenhina! And now Liriel could be anywhere! Liriel might not even... she must pay, brother!” He'd turned furious eyes on Madanach, who had been staring at the carriage, hunting for bodies... and seen Meryndor's remains.

“She already has,” Madanach said quietly and as he turned towards her, actual sympathy in his eyes, she realised he knew, he knew what marriage meant to an Altmer, because he loved one too. “Sabrinda, I can't say I counted him a friend, but I'm sorry for your loss. But you have kin left who need you, you have your daughters. Where are they, what happened to them?”

“They took them,” Sabrinda whispered, her voice hollow, everything hollow, all feelings numb as she recalled Ancalime's terrified cries. “They took my babies. That way, but I don't know where! Or... or why.”

“Falmer don't take prisoners,” the Orc grunted. “Not unless they want to eat them.” 

Sabrinda felt the tears come back, nausea threatening to claim her. She barely heard Madanach hiss “Borkul!” before kneeling by her side.

“Sabrinda. We'll find them. Liriel isn't dead. She's not even that far away... and she's fighting, I can always tell, Argis, Liriel's fighting!” Madanach looked overjoyed at the thought and the Nord who was presumably Argis grinned.

“They got an angry Dragonborn to deal with. Well now, they're about to have a really bad evening.”

“It will get worse,” Cicero growled, fury in his eyes but an unholy smile on his face as he contemplated the death he was clearly intending to inflict on these Falmer. “Reach-King, please say we may visit pain and blood on the unworthy.”

“Agar y agarma,” Madanach grinned, patting him on the shoulder. “Of course we will. Can't let Liriel deal with this on her own, can we? We've got a Dragonborn to reclaim and her frightened little sister to rescue.”

“She's got a little sister?” Argis asked, surprised. “Really?”

“Yes, little Ancalime, not sure how old she is but I think she's the same sort of stage as Sissel. She's so sweet, she's got pointy ears that are too big for her head!”

“Madanach,” the woman in ebony cut in, then immediately flinched. “Er... I mean, sir. We have a Thane to find?”

Belatedly, it occurred to Sabrinda that the ruling couple of Skyrim were High Queen Elisif and King Consort Argis and judging from the crown, that was clearly the consort. Was the woman Queen Elisif? But no, she really couldn't imagine a queen looking that nervous, even around Madanach.

“Yes, of course, we do, sorry Jordis,” Madanach said, collecting himself. “Well, Sabrinda, I don't need to tell you you're in a lot of trouble. But I may be able to lessen your fate a little. Are you injured? Can you stand? Walk? Fight?”

Slowly Sabrinda picked herself up, brushing herself down as best she could, but honestly the robes were a dead loss. They'd have to do though – her clothes case was shattered by the road, the contents trodden underfoot. At least she still had her coinpurse and maybe the Embassy could help.

“I can fight,” Sabrinda said, staring Madanach down, surprised to see him smiling.

“Good,” he said, smirking, and really, what did Liriel see in him? “In that case, you want to start making some amends for kidnapping my wife? You come with me right now, and you help me get her back. Could do with another mage in the party. Well? You up for it?”

A chance to get her girls back. To rescue Ancalime. To save Liriel and hope her elder daughter ever forgave her. Of course she would.

“I'm with you,” Sabrinda said fervently. Madanach nodded.

“Good, then after me. Borkul! Jordis! Cicero! Come on, we've got a Dragonborn to collect. No heroics, no death or glory, just kill everything between us and Liriel then get her and Cali out of there, let's go!”

“Wait a sec- ah bugger it,” Argis sighed. “Right, you and you to Dragon Bridge, get guards down here to clear up the bodies and the mess. Get all bodies to the Hall of the Dead, but do NOT tell the Embassy any of this. Report to the Jarl, no one else. Not even Rikke.”

“Understood,” one of the guards nodded. “What about you, sir? Are you coming?”

Argis shook his head, adjusting the Jagged Crown and fingering his sword-hilt. 

“No. Tell Elisif I'm sorry but my Thane needs me. She'll understand.”

With that, Argis turned and ran after Madanach, following the candlelight spell he'd cast and the glow of his and Sabrinda's mage armour. Once a housecarl, always a housecarl... and Argis had always been very good at his job.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Liriel had heard the shouts and screams, heard the magic. Heard the savage yowls that had haunted every Dwemer ruin she'd ever been in. She'd got free of her bonds by then and was desperately trying to pick her way out of the chest, but so far the lock held good, and it really wasn't meant to be picked from this side.

When she felt the chest tilt and fall, she knew things were bad. When they picked it up and carried it away, she knew she was in real trouble. Did they know she was in here? Had they taken this one because they knew it held easy meat (hah, she'd show them)? Then she heard her sister screaming and fear turned to panic.

“Cali,” Liriel whispered as she wrestled with the lock, cursing as yet another pick broke. “Cali, hold on, I'm coming.” Frantic signalling to Madanach too. No one else would be able to track her, no one else would be able to find them.

_Madanach, if you ever loved me, help me! Please..._

Answering call and the answer to that first part was clearly yes, hang in there, I'm coming. It was the sole bright point, her husband still loved her, and she could feel him getting closer now, moving faster – was he on horseback? Not alone then, Madanach could barely ride to save his life or anyone else's.

But he was coming and her sister was howling, sobbing helplessly and crying out for her parents, for her mother to help and for Daddy, Daddy, you hurt my Daddy and Liriel felt her own tears come. Maybe the last few days hadn't been easy but he was still her father and Liriel still loved him.

She persevered but the bloody picks kept breaking and she was down to her last one. Ancalime's voice had changed somehow, echoing, and Liriel guessed this was the hive. Certainly smelt like it. She had to get out of here, she had to, her sister was terrified, her father was hurt, what about her mother (although Liriel somehow felt her mother would survive). She was the Dragonborn, dammit, her family needed her!

Last pick. One more try. Calm, Liriel, calm and maybe she should have joined the Nightingales after all. Luck clearly wasn't with her tonight.

The pick broke and Liriel lost it. Screaming, shrieking, she began hammering on the chest, promising vengeance, promising fire, promising death if they dared hurt her sister, and then sit occurred to her that her Voice could do more than just scream.

“FUS RO DAH!”

In confined quarters, the effect was immediate. The lid of the chest exploded outwards and the Falmer carrying her shrieked, dropping the chest and fleeing the rain of splinters. Liriel crashed to the floor, winded but OK and casting her armour. One Atronach later and fireballs were flying in all directions as Liriel dealt with her captors the best way she knew how.

Even not fully equipped, the Archmage of Winterhold was no base prey, and she had her best robes on. Falmer went flying as Destruction magic sliced through the air. Finally all three were dead and Liriel was sprinting after Ancalime.

“Hold on, nethig, I'm coming!” Liriel shouted as she rounded the corner into the main chamber. There were more of them waiting for her, three of them standing over Ancalime, who was crouched on the ground, unhurt but tears rolling down her face. She looked up, hope and adoration in her eyes as her sister emerged with a Flame Atronach at her back and a Flame Cloak going.

“Liriel!” Ancalime sobbed. “Liriel, help!”

“Cali. As soon as they're distracted, run!” Liriel cried, summoning a bound bow and opening fire – fireballs were no good with Ancalime in range, but summoned arrows worked just fine. The Falmer as one left Ancalime be, turning on her.

Liriel fought hard, Liriel fought well. Ancalime wasted no time diving into the shadows and getting out of the way while Liriel rained fire and lightning on them. But Liriel's powers had limits and she was heavily outnumbered.

_Madanach help me, Madanach please..._

Answering response of carefully controlled terror and a promise he'd come, and he was nearby now, not far at all. He was here, he was here, her ahmul was here.

So relieved was Liriel she missed the archer in the shadows – until her armour wore off and before she could refresh it, the poisoned arrow slammed into her. She staggered back, too surprised to even feel pain until the agony kicked in and her vision started to blur.

“Oh,” Liriel whispered, staring at the arrow in her gut, and then another hit her, sending her crashing to the floor. She could barely see but she was aware of three of them, two warriors and a mage, advancing.

 _Oh. I'm dead then._ She couldn't fight them, not like this. She just hoped Cali had got away.

_Madanach. Madanach, I love you. Take care of my babies for me._

Inarticulate cry of rage and fury down the bond and he was close, so close, and then the fireball slammed into one of the Falmer. Liriel blinked, rallying and was that her _mother??_ It surely was, armoured up, cloak blazing, reanimating a dead Falmer with one hand and flinging the other at one that had just leaped at her, a bound sword materialising in the Falmer's abdomen before Sabrinda ripped it out and sliced the creature's throat open. 

Then lightning blazed, bolts slamming into the mage Falmer and sending it flying, and ebony arrows thudded into the other Falmer from seemingly out of nowhere. Then she saw him, male, human, wearing Harkon's old armour and Nahkriin's mask, moving seamlessly as high-powered Destruction spells smacked into enemies, stunning some and causing others to fall back, and Liriel knew, she just knew. Then three heavily armoured warriors tore in, all screaming battle-cries, and the human mage had left the fray to kneel by her side.

The bond told her all she needed to know, although she couldn't see his face.

“You came,” Liriel breathed, happy despite the pain, knowing it was going to be fine. Madanach loved her and Madanach was here, healing magic in both hands and the warmth felt amazing, it really did. 

He didn't answer but the bond said it all. _Of course I came for you, I love you, gods Liriel, don't die..._

Liriel closed her eyes, finally letting go. Her husband was here. It was all going to be just fine...

~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Madanach didn't really remember a lot about how they'd got out of there. Only seeing Liriel down and injured, and quietly starting to panic. But he'd done battlefield surgery before, dealt with arrow wounds before. Telekinesis to draw the arrow out and thank the gods that the chest one had hit her sternum and was actually the least serious. The gut wound – it was bad. But he got both arrows out, sealed up what he could, but it was the blood loss and poison that frightened him most. What if it was too late, what if she died anyway, he couldn't bear it, all this was his fault, she was his wife, his everything, he needed her, the girls needed her, he'd never stay clean without her! He'd never get the poison out of his own veins on his own. Poison...

The little red antivenin was in his hands without even thinking about it, meant to be a medicine to purge the aftereffects of the Skooma – but he'd forego a dose if it saved Liriel's life. Without really thinking about it, he patted her face, rousing her enough to get her attention, get her half-conscious and then made her drink the entire bottle. She wailed, clearly hating the taste and seeing as he'd been forced to drink something similar only hours before, he empathised, he really did, but she _wasn't dying._ Not on his watch. 

It seemed to help. The rest of the Falmer were dead or on the run, Sabrinda had found Cali and was clinging on to her and then Borkul was there, scooping Liriel up while Argis called for a retreat, both he and Jordis grabbing Cicero and hauling him out, the little lunatic whining copiously about wanting to avenge the Listener, and Argis snapping that she wasn't even dead yet.

Nor would she be, Madanach hoped but he didn't dare think about it. All he could think of was the love of his life in Borkul's arms, injured and hurt, all his fault, he should never have let her go, she should be safe in Markarth, he should...

He should get her back to Solitude. So he watched as Jordis mounted Shadowmere, took Liriel off Borkul and rode like the wind for Solitude, let his son take him in his arms and whisper they'd do everything they could for her, and tried not to think of Liriel leaving his life forever.

~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Hours later, and Sabrinda was settled in the Blue Palace guest suite, technically not a prisoner as the Thalmor would have got involved in the event of an arrest. No, just a guest of the Jarl after Falmer so tragically attacked her party and killed her husband, and if Elisif had her accompanied by guards whenever she left her rooms in order to replace the ones killed, that was merely a courtesy. Ancalime had been allowed to remain with her mother, Elisif not having the heart to separate them, not with Ancalime shaking all over and crying her eyes out, mourning her father deeply. 

Liriel had been taken to Styrr at the Hall of the Dead for further treatment, Madanach refusing to leave her side despite being on the edge of a nervous collapse and needing sleep. Cicero likewise had refused to leave his Listener's side, but being at least moderately less exhausted and willing to do fetching and carrying and making himself useful, had been allowed to remain. Jordis also stayed to keep an eye on both Liriel and Cicero, but Argis and Borkul had ended up virtually dragging Madanach back to Proudspire Manor for sleep. Despite insisting he didn't need it, he passed out as soon as his head hit the pillow.

When he woke, it was to Cicero capering about excitedly in the next room, Borkul telling him to pipe down, he'd wake the King, and Jordis coming in with Liriel in her arms, looking a lot healthier. Styrr was behind her, looking satisfied and Madanach felt his heart skip. 

“Liriel?” he whispered as Jordis laid her out on the bed. They'd exchanged her Archmage robes for a simple priestess's outfit, but she was still sleeping. She looked less pale though. “Is she going to be all right?”

“She's going to be fine,” Styrr promised. “Those antivenins worked a treat, I don't know where you got them from but I think they saved her life. Whoever gave her that immediate healing did a fine job.”

“Thank you,” Madanach whispered, stroking her face, her beautiful face. “What do I owe you for this?”

“For doing Arkay's work, nothing, although a donation would never be refused,” Styrr said gently. “She needs rest and sleep and to take it easy, and I've left a few potions of my own for her here. I'll see her again in a day or two, make sure she's healing well. In the mean time, Jordis and young Cicero here assure me they'll take care of her.”

“Cicero will!” Cicero chirped. “Cicero will tend to his Listener's every need! Madanach need not worry about a thing!”

Madanach wasn't sure how he felt about this, but any assistance was welcome and if he was doting on Liriel, at least he wasn't stabbing anyone.

“Thank you, Cicero, you're a good man,” Madanach said, stretching the definition of good man to its absolute limit. “Styrr, I'll be sure to reward the Priesthood of Arkay handsomely for this. Cicero, Jordis, both of you get some sleep, I think we all deserve it.” 

The room cleared... all except for Styrr, who was hanging back, looking like he had something further to say. 

“Something else?” Madanach asked and Styrr glanced over his shoulder before closing the door, coming to sit on the bed on Liriel's other side.

“Just one thing,” Styrr said quietly. “I just thought you ought to know, her child's also fine.”

“Of course they are, they're in Markarth,” Madanach said, confused until the septim dropped and his eyes fell on Liriel. “Wait... you don't mean...”

“She's pregnant, yes, about two months along, I think. Altmer pregnancies last about a year so that's not as far advanced as it sounds... you had no idea, did you?”

Madanach shook his head, dazed. “She never said,” he whispered. “She was on potions, we both were, we'd agreed it was best if we didn't because of the, you know, age gap. Didn't want to leave her a single mother – she can't be, are you sure?”

“Sure, I test all young women for it as soon as they come in, I need to know not to give them certain things otherwise. Unless that's the reason they're there of course. Madanach, you don't look so good.”

“She can't be,” Madanach whispered, the unfairness of it all hitting him. “She can't!”

“Is this not good news?” Styrr said softly. “Did you not want to...?”

“Of course I wanted to, but at my age... Sweet gods, it'll be half-blood, I'm not even going to see it grow up, this isn't... this isn't fair!”

“I know,” Styrr said gently, and Madanach guessed he must have seen this sort of thing hundreds of times. “I'll put some potions aside just in case... if Liriel hadn't said anything, there's a good chance she didn't know either. You talk it over with her and then both let me know what you decide.”

“I will. Thank you,” Madanach whispered. “Can you see yourself out? I need to be alone...”

“Of course,” Styrr said, taking his leave. “Blessings of Arkay on you both, Madanach.”

Madanach waited until the priest was gone before collapsing on the bed, shattered. The obvious choice, the rational choice, was for Liriel to get rid of it. Single parenthood, the child losing its father young – how old was Ancalime? She'd just lost her father, she was clearly devastated, Madanach didn't think he'd live another thirty years. That was leaving aside the Skooma addiction. Gods, Liriel didn't even know about that yet. And her father was dead, and there was still her mother to deal with, what happened to Ancalime no one knew but Madanach had a feeling they'd end up raising her with the girls. That was if Liriel still wanted him as a husband after this, doubtful to say the least. 

But his heart was saying otherwise. His heart was filling his head with visions of a chubby little golden-skinned pointy-eared half-blood baby, and not all the trying to talk himself out of it was helping. He wanted that baby, wanted to get to know it, see it grow up, actually raise a child to adulthood and knowing it couldn't happen because of his own damn mortality... it was breaking his heart and now he knew how she felt. Time ticking away, no longer on his side, and he didn't want to die any more, he missed Kaie yes, but he was no longer quietly counting the days until he could finally die and be reunited with her. Not with a baby that would need a father.

He'd need to have a long conversation with Liriel. And Nepos and Eola and Keirine and the girls and sundry others. But if this all worked out... yes. For his pregnant wife and his child-to-be, he would do absolutely anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Meryndor. I did want to save him but the rest of the fic goes easier with him gone. Poor Cali as well, the poor child's heartbroken - but also very resilient.
> 
> Poor Madanach and Liriel too. Their heads and all previous rational discussion have said 'no, no children, not fair on the kid'. But their hearts are going 'baby!' Next chapter, time for Madanach and Liriel to have a Serious Talk.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of everything, Liriel has to come to terms with not just her father's death but with what the whole incident has done to her marriage. With Madanach in a confessional mood, Liriel's got a lot to deal with - but dragons don't lightly give up what they've claimed as theirs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After the intensity of last chapter, this one is a little slower paced, and is the one where Liriel and Madanach finally have a serious talk about everything. It's a testimony as to how strong their bond actually is that they're still together by the end of it...

Hours later, Liriel woke up, gasping his name as she reached out to her husband, and Madanach took her into his arms without a second thought, holding on to her as she shivered in his arms.

“Cali, oh gods, Cali, they had Cali,” Liriel gasped, too terrified to think of anything else but her little sister screaming.

“She's fine,” Madanach murmured. “We found her, she's fine, she's staying at the Blue Palace.”

“Mamma was there, she was fighting,” Liriel whispered, subsiding a little on knowing her sister was OK.

“She's fine too, she's with your sister,” Madanach reassured her, hoping she wouldn't ask the next question but knowing she was going to.

“Cali said... said they'd hurt Daddy,” Liriel whispered, voice trembling, and Madanach held her closer, bracing himself for this one.

“He didn't make it. I'm so sorry, cariad,” Madanach said quietly, kissing the top of her head and feeling his heart break as his Liriel, his tough, strong, brave Dragonborn, broke down in his arms, sobbing her heart out as she clung on to him. Madanach said nothing, just made little reassuring noises, feeling horrible and a little guilty, although most of him held Meryndor and Sabrinda responsible for their own troubles. Eventually Liriel cried herself back to sleep, and Madanach eventually drifted off with her cradled in his arms.

When he awoke once more, it was to Liriel clinging on to him, crying again, and it was all he could do to hold her and soothe her, feeling her grief and doing his best to send love back. It seemed to work. Liriel finally dried her eyes, nestling in his arms and feeling so very very fragile.

“It really happened, didn't it,” she whispered. “Daddy's gone. He and Mamma kidnapped me. And... you sent me away.”

“Yes,” Madanach admitted. “I'm so sorry. Don't leave me. I love you, I still want you as my wife, I just... can't bear seeing you so unhappy because of me.”

Silence. A pause and then joy of joys, Liriel snuggling closer.

“You're a fucking idiot, Madanach.”

“Yes,” Madanach said softly, heart leaping for joy as he felt the answering response from her and knew he was forgiven for that at least. “Yes, these last couple of days have made that abundantly obvious. What you still see in me remains a mystery.”

Soft laughter from her. “You were there when I needed you,” Liriel whispered. “You came and got me, you still loved me, you were terrified you'd lose me, I could feel it. And you never once have lied to me – Madanach, my parents lied to me!”

She looked up, a child's pout on her face and Madanach couldn't help but smile. Although he had no doubt the grievance was genuine, he also sensed it wasn't her rational adult side that was offended the most.

“What did they tell you?” he asked.

“They told me Altmer only love once, they meet the mer of their dreams, fall in love, the other one loves them back and then they get married and live happily ever after and when one dies, the other mourns them forever and never loves anyone else, and that anything else is meaningless! And it wasn't true even for them!” Liriel looked positively outraged, little furrow appearing between her eyebrows that only ever appeared when she was annoyed and that Madanach had always secretly found adorable.

“Was it not?” Madanach murmured, stroking her hair and waiting with bated breath to hear the rest of this. He had a feeling it was going to be highly entertaining. “I know your father had a fling with Kaie ap Faolan many years ago, but that was all it was to him, right?”

“No!” Liriel cried. “He still made offerings to Arkay for her every ten years, he blamed himself for not realising human lives were so short and essentially abandoning her, he was angry with Mara for years for giving him feelings for a human and taking her away, he _still has a locket with her hair in it_ – why don't I have a locket with your hair in it?” Now she was definitely pouting and Madanach bit his lip, trying not to laugh.

“Would you like a locket with my hair in it, cariad?” Madanach did manage to get out. Liriel nodded, still scowling and Madanach kissed her on the cheek. “Then I shall be sure to get you that very thing. See the smiths and get the locket commissioned when we get back, and I shall provide the hair.”

Mollified, Liriel seemed to relax, but she was still scowling. “And as for Mother – I knew that a Dark Brotherhood assassin once accidentally killed her best friend Valiriel, who I was named after, but only now do I find out that wasn't just her best friend, that was her bloody betrothed! Mother and Father didn't have that long, lengthy courtship and engagement because it was part of what Altmer do, it was because she was still mourning Valiriel for half of it! She still takes chrysanthemums to her grave on her birthday! _Stop laughing,_ it is not _funny!_ ”

Madanach had finally given up on controlling himself and burst out laughing, rolling back on the bed and howling hysterically and while Liriel's distress wasn't funny, not at all, the idea of Liriel's strait-laced Altmer parents both being ridiculously sentimental over their ex-partners couldn't help but be amusing. Not even a smack on the shoulder from Liriel could put him off.

“Sorry,” he finally managed to say, wiping a tear from his eye and despite her glaring at him, there was something about the way her lips were quirking that told him she was seeing the funny side too.

“You are not sorry at all,” Liriel said, still pouting. “You are a very bad man.”

“I'm awful. I know,” Madanach said, still grinning although the grin subsided as he recalled all the ways that was true that Liriel had no idea about yet. “It's just... you people are adorable. A hardened Thalmor Justiciar like your mother still takes flowers to her ex-lover's grave on her birthday, even centuries later after marrying someone else and having three children with him. That's unexpectedly sweet. Don't worry about bringing flowers to mine by the way, just pour a shot of jenever over it, I'll be quite happy.” _Even happier if you gave me Skooma_ – no. No, no, no, he'd promised, never again, damn it he had potions to take, didn't he? He could already feel the shakes starting, the familiar sick craving kicking in. Cursing quietly, he sat up, casting a healing spell to make his body shut up for a bit, before getting up, rummaging through his pack.

“Madanach?” Liriel called, confused. “Are you all right? You weren't hurt too, were you?”

_Only by me._ “I'm fine, I just have potions to take, I think I missed doses.” There they were, an antivenin first... and then the blue one. The one that represented each day's very firm no to Skooma that day.

“Dim anas aur,” Madanach whispered, knocking it back. _Not today._ The addict's credo – it didn't matter what had happened yesterday and tomorrow was another day. Today – today you'd get through it and today you wouldn't take any. A Forsworn pre-battle rallying-cry, a ritual response to Sithis that they weren't going to him yet, now turned addict's mantra. Well, why not. Not today, Sanguine.

“You take potions now? Other than your contraceptive ones?” Liriel was frowning at him, and he could feel her confusion, her worry... and the suspicion. “Madanach, why do you need to? Are you sure you're all right?”

_No. No, I'm very far from all right, a Daedric Prince wants my body and soul, I'm addicted to the drug that can nullify a Bond of Matrimony, and you're my only hope of surviving. And I think you're going to take the kids and leave when you hear this one._

“Madanach?” Liriel asked, and the worry radiating off her tore at his heart, not just because she was upset but because he did not deserve the sympathy. He rejoined her on the bed, closing his eyes as she moved closer, pulling her into his arms, and this was nice, so nice, almost like being on the stuff again, except not quite... apart from the self-loathing, yes, that was exactly the same, almost. He didn't deserve her, not remotely.

“Madanach, stop it, you're doing it again, you're like you were before you...” Liriel clearly couldn't bring herself to say the words out loud but she sounded scared and that was wrong, all wrong, Liriel shouldn't be scared of anything. Madanach held her tighter, kissed her hair and enjoyed this while he still could.

“I'm not all right,” he whispered. “I'm a flawed, broken man who doesn't deserve someone beautiful and perfect like you in his life. You were happier before you met me and I think you'd be happier without me, but I can't bear to see you go. I sent you away because I thought it would be better for you, but it wasn't better for me. I lost all hope, Liriel. I don't have much now, but you're here at least.”

“It felt like you hated me, but you clearly don't, then you stopped the bond working somehow and you felt pleased, relieved even. Madanach, why the potions, what happened, what did you do??” Liriel had never been a stupid woman, and Madanach had always liked that. It made it very hard to fool her and that was something he could easily respect.

“I took Skooma,” Madanach confessed and there it was, out in the open, congratulations Liriel, you married a Skooma addict. “I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I won't – I mean, I promised – I just felt so lonely and it always took that away, made it all better. It's why I didn't know you were in trouble, I'm so sorry.”

Liriel was staring at him, just looking confused. “But... you haven't had the stuff since Cidhna Mine, you stopped the shakes with your magic, you're not addicted. You can't be an addict, you're king!”

“Anyone can be an addict, it's what we tell all the new entrants in the treatment programme,” Madanach said bitterly. “Just everywhere else, addicts are left to suffer, left to spend everything feeding their cravings and fall to the bottom. It's only in the Reach we ever bothered to try and help them. Because the Nords poisoned us with it, poisoned half my High Command... and me. You've no idea, Liriel. I could stop the shakes, I couldn't stop the cravings. Jenever helped, you helped, when you were in my arms it all went away. But never forever.”

Liriel's entire expression had changed, from confusion to horror and guilt and... sympathy? He must be imagining it, why she'd be sympathetic was beyond him.

“Why did you never say?” Liriel whispered. “You never told me, I thought you'd got over it, or never got addicted!”

“So did I,” Madanach said softly, feeling tears in his eyes, and then Liriel had her arms around him, holding him tight, her turn to comfort him now and Madanach clung on to her. She saved the world, she could save him, right? “But I haven't. Liriel, I promised Lucia I wouldn't do it again but I don't know if I can stop.”

“ _Lucia_ knows??” Liriel gasped and this was it, the end of his marriage and quite possibly his life, he knew it.

“She found me,” Madanach admitted. “I'd told Borkul not to let Nepos or Eola in, but when they realised you were in trouble, Borkul said Lucia could come and get me. They didn't know I was off my face on Skooma though.”

“Lucia _saw_ you?” Liriel cried, and now she did look scandalised. Yes, there it was, the anger, the judgement, he'd lost her forever now.

“Is she all right? Who's looking after her? Sissel, what about her?” Liriel demanded, and honestly Madanach wasn't sure, but Eola adored her baby sisters, she'd look after them, right?

“She was upset but she was looking better when I left. Poor girl was worried sick. I didn't get much chance to see Sissel, but she seemed fine. Eola's taking care of them both, she was very firm that I needed to track you down above everything else.”

Relaxation on Liriel's part, and then something unexpected on her part. Forgiveness. 

“Well that's something. Good on Eola, that's one sensible girl you've got there.”

“Gets that from her mother,” Madanach said gruffly. “Mireen might have been an evil sadist but she'd never have touched Skooma. Liriel, I – I know I've probably ruined everything and that you probably think I'm a completely unfit father and husband, and if you want me out of your life, I'll understand but please...”

“No,” Liriel said softly, stroking his hair and kissing his forehead. “No, please, I just lost my father. I'm not losing you too. We'll get you through this, I swear it, you're already on the potions, we'll get you into the programme, to that support group the rest of your blood-brothers go to, others have come through it and stayed clean, so will you, I swear.” 

“Do they have a Daedric Prince after them?” Madanach cried, feeling hysterical and impatient and he was beyond redemption, why couldn't Liriel see that?? “I stayed clean after breaking up with you that time, I stayed clean after Kaie, somehow I managed it, due in large part to my people collectively making it near impossible to ever find any and yet after one drunken encounter at Argis's stag night with what I later find out is the Daedric Prince of Debauchery, some is waiting in my bedroom when I get back? Liriel, I'm not like other addicts, Sanguine's after me, as soon as I'd taken it, he was there, saying he'd missed me. Saying he wanted me. Liriel, I...” Confessing this one was beyond even him, but he'd let her work out the rest.

“You didn't want to?” Bless Liriel's innocent heart. Depraved she was not. Slowly Madanach shook his head.

“Rolled right over and let him do what he liked. Enjoyed it. Would go back for more,” Madanach said listlessly. “There you are, Liriel. Your husband likes it when men or Dremora take advantage. And Skooma gave Sanguine the perfect way in. That's what you're up against, Liriel. The Daedric Prince of Debauchery. Still want to be married to me?”

In retrospect, Madanach would readily admit that saying that was a mistake. Giving Liriel a challenge – terrible idea. Having it involve taking on a Daedric Prince – worse. Having her husband's fate at stake? There just weren't words.

“Sanguine can't have you,” Liriel growled, eyes narrowing. “You're _mine!_ ” And the Dragonborn pounced.

She might have been recovering from injuries. He might be old and tired and a recovering Skooma addict. But none of that stopped her rolling him onto his back and climbing on top of him, tearing at his clothes and pinning him down, knee between his legs as she rubbed against him. The bond told him everything she was feeling – rage, fury, possessiveness, all of it, and yes, this was what he wanted, this was what he liked, someone overpowering him and taking control, taking what they wanted, and she must have been able to feel him yielding because that only made her wilder.

In the end it wasn't the most dignified sex they'd ever had. It involved a lot of growling (her), whimpering (him), scratching, biting, hair-pulling, Liriel thrusting up against him and him lying back and letting her. But it was definitely arousing, especially once Liriel and he locked eyes and she realised just how much he was enjoying this.

“You like this,” she breathed. Madanach just shrugged and nodded.

“I always liked them dangerous.” How else had Mireen been able to get away with it for years?

Grin from Liriel. “So I see!” She lowered her lips to whisper in his ear. “You're mine, Madanach. No one else's. You can be the most powerful man in the Reach but at the end of the day, you belong to me. Ahmul-se-Dovahkiin, you are not Sanguine's to take.”

Madanach had almost sobbed as he whispered yes, yes, Liriel save me, I'll do anything you want, and Liriel had moaned helplessly, reaching for his cock as she started to get him off.

It ended with the two of them tangled in each other's arms, Madanach shaking as he cleaned them both up and not from the Skooma comedown this time.

“Brenhina,” he whispered, pulling her to him, arranging it so he was lying down with her half on top of him. “Queen of mine. I love you.”

“Love you too,” Liriel whispered, shaking herself as she held him. “No more sneaking off with Daedra, hmm?” 

Madanach shook his head. Why would he need to with Liriel here to look after him? He just wanted to feel warm and protected and loved... and his Dragonborn did it for him every time.

“You're going into the treatment programme,” Liriel continued. “And that support group Borkul goes to. And I'll be talking to the programme director myself, make sure you're getting the support you need. And I have this friend. Well, you've met him. He was the priest at our wedding. Erandur. Priest of Mara now but he used to be a cultist of Vaermina. If anyone knows how to get free of a Daedric Prince's clutches, it's him.” She patted Madanach's cheek gently. “He lives in Dawnstar, but he's not got many ties there. I think he'd come to the Reach if I told him we needed him.”

“Are you converting me to Mara worship now?” Madanach joked but deep inside, he could feel the fear easing, hope returning, Liriel his love and saviour back to heal him.

“Not exactly, but she's a goddess of love and family who teaches temperance and sobriety, because the opposite destroys marriages and harms children. I think you could stand to have a little of that influence in your life.”

“Yes Liriel,” Madanach murmured, snuggling closer to her. Hadn't he seen it for himself? Skooma shut down his marriage bond and made him vulnerable to Sanguine's influence, and his wife had nearly died. Never again. If this whole thing cost him his throne, he'd live with it. If it had cost his wife or children... he knew he'd have been finished. As it was, he still had hope. He still had his Dragonborn. 

Said Dragonborn kissed his forehead and shifted so she was resting her head on his chest, still wincing a little.

“Sore?” Madanach asked, worried. It hadn't just been a need for someone to take care of him for once that had made him give in to her. He'd been aware that she'd been more fragile than usual. 

“A bit,” Liriel admitted. “Been so tired lately, even before all this. I'm just... exhausted.”

Cold shiver down Madanach's spine as he realised Styrr was probably right about Liriel. To tell her or not to?

_Dim anas aur_. Not today. She was tired and bereaved and just found out her husband was damaged goods, more than she'd previously known. She did not need this on top of it all.

“Then you should sleep,” he murmured, carefully tucking her up in bed and brushing her hair back off her face. Liriel snuggled into the bedding, smiling a little although there was something in that smile that was only skin-deep, and he could feel the sadness radiating off her.

“Madanach?”

“Yes, creenama?”

“Daddy's still gone, isn't he?” Tiny, small voice that he was really not used to hearing from her.

“I'm afraid so, cariad,” he whispered. “But I'm not going anywhere.” Sometimes he forgot how young she was by Altmer standards – their equivalent of mid-twenties or so, adult but still not ready to lose a parent yet.

“I never got to say goodbye,” Liriel whispered tearfully. “The last words we said were an argument, and now he's gone!”

_He and your mother threw you in a trunk and abducted you, do not waste your tears._ But Madanach also knew that it was never quite that simple. So he held on to his wife until she slept once more, holding her as she wept for her shattered blood family, quietly promising he'd do his best to replace the one she'd lost.

~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

_Dear Eola,_

_While I'm well aware the concept of worry is not one you're altogether familiar with, nevertheless I thought you might appreciate a progress report._

_Short version: we found Liriel and she's going to be fine._

_Long version: the Falmer attacked her parents before we could get there, killing her father and taking Liriel and Ancalime prisoner. Fortunately Liriel freed herself and fought them off, buying enough time for us to catch up and help, probably saving Ancalime's life. However, Liriel was injured in the fight and was taken back to Solitude to recuperate. She's going to be fine though, and there's no question of her going back to Alinor. It'll be a week at least before she's well enough to travel, but we're all taking care of her as best we can. Cicero in particular is proving to be a very good nurse maid. He sends his love and says to tell you he misses you but must tend to his Listener. I'd order him back, but it turns out he's the only one who Liriel will actually listen to when he tells her she is overdoing it._

_As for Liriel's mother, she survived unscathed and is currently a guest of Jarl Elisif's. We're not sure what to do with her yet, but once Liriel is feeling better, we're all meeting up at the Blue Palace to decide her fate. I'll be sure to let you know the outcome. Little Ancalime is physically fine, but mentally... well, she's surviving but she's not the same. Having said that, she loves Cicero and adores having him here, and Elisif is also doting on her non-stop. Ancalime seems fascinated by Lirela – she's never seen a baby before, much less a human one. There have been lots of questions, although I made my excuses and left when the ones about where Lirela actually came from started getting asked._

_I have told Liriel everything, including why I was non-functional the morning she was taken, and the measures you've taken to rectify matters. There were tears and several long and very serious conversations, but it appears that so long as I enrol in the treatment programme, and see one of the mind-healers, and seek the assistance of that Dunmer priest friend of hers, she will deign to forgive me... this time. I have my wife back, and I am not letting her go again. She's saying similar things about me – apparently if I ever ask for a divorce without genuinely having tired of her and wanting her nowhere near me ever again, I can forget about any kind of second chance. There's very little chance of that happening, and I've told her that. I think this whole escapade has proven to everyone that I don't cope well on my own._

_On the other hand, she found the news about the Regency arrangements hilarious, and was even more pleased to discover she was a Council member by virtue of her consort status. Daughter, I fear power has gone to her head a little. I fear you have created a monster. I have reminded her that she may not order executions without a trial and a majority council verdict, nor may she declare war on her own. She just smiled and said she knew and she didn't think either of those would be necessary, which just makes me worry more._

_I hope you're doing well, and nothing's gone horribly wrong, also that Nepos and your aunt are not driving you up the wall. Wrangling those two is something of an art form sometimes but I have faith in you. Just remember you're the heir to the throne, not them. We'll be back before you know it._

_I think I almost can find it in myself to forgive you for taking my torc. Just about. Gods know if I can't cope with the husband and father roles, king may be a bit beyond me. We'll talk more when I return – there are other developments too but not something I can put in a letter._

_Give my love to your sisters – I have a separate letter for them both, but do tell them we're all right and we'll be home soon._

_Your father,  
Madanach_

_~~~~~~~~~~~~~_

_Dear Lucia and Sissel,_

_I hope this finds you both well and that you've been behaving yourselves. I'm writing this from your mother's house in Solitude, which is where we're both staying for now._

_You'll be pleased to know I found her and Cicero did not in fact end up stabbing her parents. Sadly, they were attacked by Falmer before any of us could get there, and while Liriel, her mother and little Cali survived, Liriel's father did not._

_Your mother was also injured but she's going to be all right. Cicero and I are looking after her here until she's well enough to bring home. I'm hoping this will be soon. I miss you both, and so does she._

_When we do come home, a few things will be changing. I'm not even sure where we'll be living, but hopefully we'll be able to stay in the Keep still. In particular, your mother just lost her father and will be upset over that, as well as still being in a fragile state from her injuries, so I need you both to be good girls for her and not upset her. There's an excellent chance we may be bringing Ancalime with us to live as well, and if we do, she'll be upset over losing her father too, so you will both need to make her feel welcome and help look after her._

_As for me, I'm sure Eola told you both I'd been unwell, and I know Lucia saw it for herself. Lucia m'inyeen, from the bottom of my heart, please accept my deepest apologies. No child should ever have to see her father in that state. I'm so sorry, cariad. I promised you I would never touch the stuff again, and I intend to keep that promise. You'll both be seeing me visit the clinic a few times a week now, and taking various potions intended to help me stay healthy. Please don't worry or be scared, I have told your mother everything and she's going to make sure I don't get in that state again._

_Take care of yourselves, and make sure your sister isn't working too hard. She doesn't have a Cicero at the moment to fuss over her and make her go to bed or eat, so you'll have to do it._

_All my love,  
Da _

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

“Are you ready for this?” Madanach asked as they walked up to the Blue Palace, arm in arm. Liriel, still pale but rallying, nodded. She had her repaired and cleaned Archmage robes back and her torc and circlet, and also her wedding ring. Madanach had dropped to one knee in their bedroom that morning and formally presented it back, quietly asking her forgiveness and that if she took him back as husband, he would never send her away again or be anything less than her loving companion until the Void took him. Liriel had let him replace it on her finger before helping him up and kissing him, then holding him in her arms, marvelling how one of the fiercest men in Skyrim could be so vulnerable and tender when it was just the two of them. 

He looked neither now, grim and ready to face down the woman who'd abducted his wife. Liriel had already been interviewed over her version of events, Elisif turning up at Proudspire Manor in person to see how she was doing and talk to her. She'd also brought Lirela, and that had had both Madanach and Liriel cooing over the little one, Madanach in particular doting on his little granddaughter. Liriel had fought off the familiar wave of sadness she got whenever she saw them interacting, done her best to smile but it was hard seeing Madanach fuss over a little one and know it'd never be their little one, could never be. She knew it was for the best, but it still broke her heart every single time, holding an armful of giggling, squirming human baby with Madanach holding her and staring adoringly at the little thing, and wishing she had one of her own. It wasn't fair, he'd be such a good father, was such a good father, but he'd be gone in the blink of an eye and all she'd have left would be a child to raise on her own, a grieving and confused child just like little Cali. Elisif had brought her over too, clutching a little jester doll that Sabrinda had apparently made for her. Apparently it had been the first thing to make her smile since the attack, although seeing Liriel again also had the same effect. She'd still been a bit shy around Madanach but she'd smiled at him and whispered a little thank you for saving her and Liriel, and was he really Liriel's husband? Liriel and Madanach had exchanged looks, held hands and then Madanach had said yes he really was. Ancalime had looked a bit wary, but then looked at Liriel and very solemnly asked if she liked having Madanach as a husband and did she know she'd be in a lot of trouble back home?

Liriel had nodded and said yes to both, but the Reach was her home now, not Alinor. Ancalime had seemed content with that, cuddling her and whispering she seemed a lot happier than she ever had back in Alinor, that before she'd always seemed to want to be somewhere else. Now she seemed happy where she was.

“I am, Cali-cat,” Liriel had said. “I am.” Apart from her father dying, and she and Ancalime had cried over that together too. Thank the gods for Madanach and Cicero, both of whom had been unfailing sources of cuddling and moral support for the sisters.

Liriel was going to need it today. Now she was feeling mostly better, if still tired and nauseous all the time, it was time to get on with life. Time in particular to deal with her mother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And next chapter, Sabrinda's fate is decided, and then it's time to go home.
> 
> Dim anas aur - not today. Straight out of Game of Thrones, that one - although not as an addict's mantra.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sabrinda's hearing produces mixed results, with Liriel finding herself in the judge's chair after realising she's the official Reach representative post-regency. But one revelation has knock-on effects for Madanach, and the results lead to an emotional conversation with Liriel and a decision that will change everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The pace is slowing down a bit now as we approach the final chapters. After this one, I'd say we have about three more to go, roughly.
> 
> One reviewer expressed surprise at Madanach not having said anything to Liriel about the pregnancy despite the presence of his granddaughter. He has indeed been brooding on it constantly but fortunately has sufficient self-control not to say anything yet - his reasoning being that Liriel has enough on her plate what with just having lost her father. But it's coming, don't worry.
> 
> Dawnguard spoilers in this one too. Also a bit of slightly rough sex involving dirty talk and biting and dom!Madanach.

The meeting took place in one of the chambers in the re-opened Pelagius Wing, Elisif holding closed court to decide what to do with Sabrinda. Not a formal criminal case, of course, that would involve pressing charges, at which point Elenwen would get involved and everything would go to the Void. No, this was just a meeting to decide where everyone went from here.

The fact that Sabrinda was sitting apart from everyone else with two big burly Haafingar guards at her back was just for the Justiciar's own safety, of course.

Elisif was sitting in an improvised throne of sorts, with Sabrinda off on the left-hand side, Argis at her right, Madanach and Liriel opposite, Borkul and Jordis standing guard behind them, and Cicero nowhere in sight, having been packed off to entertain Ancalime while the grown-ups were talking.

“Good to see you up and about, Liriel,” Elisif said gently. “We were all so worried. Thank Mara you're well again.”

“Thank you, Elisif,” Liriel replied, blushing a little. “I'm feeling a lot better now. I've had better weeks, I really have.”

“I'm sure you have,” Elisif said sympathetically. “Not every day you get abducted by your own parents, after all.”

“We did not abduct-!” Sabrinda cried, falling silent on receiving a chilling glare from Elisif.

“You by your own admission threw her in a trunk, tied her up and took her from her home city by force,” Elisif snapped. “Sounds like abduction to me!”

“She would have left anyway, Madanach had asked for a divorce!” Sabrinda protested. Elisif and Argis as one turned to Liriel and Madanach for confirmation of this.

“We argued,” Madanach said stiffly. “It is possible that rash words were said that weren't meant. But Liriel and I have talked and we're not getting a divorce. I love Liriel, I don't want her to go.”

Smiles from High Queen and Consort and Elisif continued.

“That's good to hear. But regardless of the state of her marriage and if Liriel was planning to leave anyway – that doesn't change the fact you and Meryndor did in fact cast paralysing magic on one of my Thanes and take her by force. Sabrinda, I hope you realise that under Skyrim law, that's a lengthy prison sentence.”

“Under Reach law, it's the death penalty,” Madanach said quietly, glaring at Sabrinda. “Liriel's not just any old citizen, she's a member of our royal family, it's an offence against the state. And the abduction took place in Markarth.”

“Extraditing you back to Markarth for a trial is an option, Sabrinda,” said Elisif calmly. “Although I'm sure the Embassy will intervene should a formal charge be brought – but that would be Madanach's problem.”

“Not right now, it wouldn't be,” Liriel said cheerfully. “Due to Madanach rendering himself unfit for duty via substance ingestion while the abduction was going on, there's presently a regency arrangement in force, although I'd prefer that didn't leave this room.”

“Substance ingestion?” Elisif said, confused. “What, you were drowning your sorrows on that jenever stuff? That's a bit harsh.”

Silence as Liriel wondered what to say, glancing at Argis who was also looking worried, and then Madanach spoke up.

“It wasn't jenever, Elisif. It was Skooma. A little habit I picked up in Cidhna Mine, one I thought I'd kicked... but apparently I'm not as strong as I thought.”

Elisif's eyes widened as she turned to Argis for confirmation then to Liriel.

“Skooma... you knew this?”

“I knew he'd taken some in prison,” Liriel admitted. “I didn't know he was still addicted. But apparently he is, and until he's got it under control, the Reach is being run by a council of regents led by Princess Eola, comprising her, Matriarch Keirine, Steward Nepos, Field-Marshal Uraccen and, er, me apparently.”

“He's a Skooma addict??” Sabrinda said incredulously. “And he's been in _prison??_ Liriel, what exactly were you thinking?”

“ _Mother!_ ” Liriel growled and Sabrinda did subside, but she still glared at Madanach.

“You are not good enough for her,” she muttered. Madanach, to everyone's surprise, actually nodded.

“You're right. I'm not. But Liriel apparently thinks otherwise, and as long as I get treatment, she wants to keep me. Who am I to say no?”

Elisif was still staring at Madanach in horror. “Skooma... you. I had no idea... Argis, why didn't you tell me?”

“I thought he'd quit,” Argis said quietly. “You know him, he does the impossible all the time. But we can talk later about this, right?”

“Right,” Elisif said, still staring at Madanach, who'd lowered his eyes and Liriel could feel the defeat and resignation coming from him, remembered his fear that he'd never see Lirela again once Elisif found out. Liriel squeezed his hand, vowing to speak to Elisif later, talk her into not shutting Madanach off completely from his granddaughter.

“Anyway,” Elisif was saying briskly. “We're here today to work out what to do with Sabrinda. Seeing as her crime was committed in Markarth, the Reach has first claim jurisdiction-wise, but if she's up for the death penalty, the Thalmor won't hesitate to intervene. I can of course try her here, but it's a much lesser sentence. However, it's more complex than that. While travelling in Skyrim, Sabrinda lost her husband due to an attack by Falmer, along a road known to have had disappearances and murdered travellers, and this has been known to the local Jarls. The stretch of road in question is in Hjaalmarch, but Jarl Idgrod hasn't got the guards to patrol it. I've got men at my disposal, but for Haafingar's Jarl to start sending men unasked into another Hold is apparently inciting trouble. However, I am also High Queen now and if there's a public risk, I could justify it if we were careful and didn't tread on any toes. But we didn't know what was causing the problem, the area is uninhabited and isolated, and armed patrols tend not to get attacked. Also while I have the men for a one-off mission, I can't field regular patrols. But it's also close to the border with the Reach, and we know the ReachGuard have the people to deal with all manner of problems.”

“Elisif, we don't have anyone living near that area,” Madanach sighed. “We can patrol the roads near Cwm Prendwemyn for you, but out near Dragon Bridge? We've got a small border outpost with about three people there at any one time, that's it. Elisif, I can't deal with incidents that aren't even happening in my borders.”

“Yes, you said that about Lost Valley and look what happened,” Elisif said sternly. 

“That's completely different, that was treasonous elements in the Forsworn. This was Falmer, how on earth do you expect me to deal with a hive we didn't know was there??” Madanach protested.

“All the same, the disappearances have been going on for months, and it turns out the perpetrators, outlaws though they may be, were operating from inside your borders,” Elisif sighed. “Now they've killed Sabrinda's husband and your queen's father – she may be in trouble herself, but if she'd been travelling that way without Liriel, help would never have come, Ancalime would likely also be dead and we'd all be having to answer to the Ambassador right now. We do owe her recompense and the Reach in particular needs to respond.”

Madanach looked like he was about to argue, before it occurred to him that thanks to his daughter and steward, none of this was his problem any more.

“I agree, this all sounds very complicated and requires an official response from the Mournful Throne,” Madanach said, sitting back in his chair and folding his arms. “Currently that's in the hands of the Council of Regents led by my daughter who is not here, but fortunately my wife's a member – Liriel, care to respond?”

Liriel briefly contemplated exactly how much force it would take to throttle her husband, but on the other hand, there was no denying that she did now represent the Reach officially, not just as it's consort. Which made things very interesting.

“The Reach will respond,” Liriel promised. “As you say, the ReachGuard have the troops to deal with this, and as they're on our land, we'll deal with the problem. I'll write to the Torc-Brenyeen directly and request she send troops in. However, we have our price for this, and this is it: we want jurisdiction over Sabrinda's case.”

Elisif bowed her head, nodding thoughtfully, and Sabrinda promptly panicked.

“Liriel, you can't, you can't execute me, I'm your mother!” she cried, terrified. “How are you going to explain it to Ancalime, how?? She's already lost one parent! Jarl Elisif, you're a mother, you know how it is, right?”

“I do,” Elisif said softly. “They come in to your life, you give birth to them and suddenly everything changes and you'd do anything to protect them, anything to see them happy, you really would kill anyone who hurt your little baby girl, isn't that right?”

Sabrinda nodded, smiling, relieved to see someone understood. Her relief was utterly shattered by Elisif's next comment.

“How does that square with incapacitating her with magic, tying her up and locking her in a trunk for hours, exactly?” Elisif inquired sweetly, with a bitchiness Liriel hadn't known she had in her. There was a muffled snort from Madanach, a dark chuckle from Borkul, Jordis saying nothing but probably grinning, and Argis staring at his feet, hair shadowing his face but probably smirking. 

Sabrinda had gone bright red, jaw dropping as she tried to process what the High Queen had just said to her. 

“I'm sorry?” she whispered. Elisif rolled her eyes and tried the more straightforward approach.

“Why. Did. You. Do. It?” Elisif sighed. “Plenty of people disapprove of their children's spouses every day, they don't usually respond by stealing their grown child back.”

“It was for her own good,” Sabrinda gasped, her composure shaken. “Liriel, we were trying to save you, we didn't want to hurt you!”

“Save me??” Liriel snapped. “You locked me in a trunk! That isn't saving me from anything!”

“Elenwen's trying to kill you!” Sabrinda cried, then gasping as she realised what she'd said. The entire room had gone deathly quiet... apart from one ex-Reach-King who looked fascinated.

“Do go on,” Madanach drawled. “We all want to hear a Thalmor Justiciar admit there's a genuine assassination plot against a lawful Imperial ruler's wife – no, a member of the Reach's ruling council in her own right now. She's not even a Talos worshipper.”

“That's an act of war if proven. Maybe even if not,” Argis said solemnly and the entire room had gone quiet. Elisif was looking pale and worried for the first time since proceedings had started.

“I don't know if we're ready for a war,” Elisif said softly. “By the Aedra, Rikke's going to be furious.”

Foolish of Elisif to admit that out loud, not to mention admit Skyrim's military capability was firmly in the Legion's hands. But this was a private hearing, and Liriel knew how to play this game.

“Jarl Elisif, if I may?” Liriel asked, and Elisif nodded. Liriel thanked her and turned to her mother.

“That's your defence, is it? Elenwen had said something, in a no doubt deniable conversation, no doubt in a manner which could easily be miscontrued if the Embassy needed to cover itself, that could be interpreted as the Thalmor wanting to kill me?”

Sabrinda nodded once. “Yes, although you're right about the deniability. Liriel, please, we just wanted to keep you safe. We thought if we took you back to the estate in Alinor, they'd let it all drop.”

“Bit late for that,” Liriel said harshly. “Mother, I know they're trying to kill me! Every time I travel in the wilderness, I get attacked by allegedly rogue Thalmor patrols with anonymous kill orders in their pockets. I've got a whole collection of them back in Markarth, we're up to about fifteen attempts now. Frankly, I'm surprised Madanach still lets me out of the city.”

“I don't unless you take someone with you,” Madanach said coldly. “Fortunately you've got sufficient people willing to trek along after you who are more than a match for the odd rogue Thalmor patrol. We've complained to Elenwen many times, but she just shrugs and says they're acting outside her orders and she's trying to root out the culprits but that there are many out there who don't like true-blooded Altmer dallying with humans. That's if they are genuine Thalmor and not mer who've stolen the uniforms and are just trying to make her look bad. Drives me up the wall, but on the other hand, it does mean when a genuine patrol vanishes inside our borders, I can just shrug my shoulders and say the Reach is a dangerous place if you go off-road and the ReachGuard can't be everywhere.”

Liriel squeezed his hand, grinning. Cicero and Eola between them were making life very difficult for unaccompanied Thalmor in or near the Reach. It was keeping the Namira cultists very happy indeed. Not that Madanach knew about that, but he wasn't going to shed tears over the Thalmor. And so this little dance kept on dancing, Elenwen sending people after the Reach's Queen and the Reach neatly swallowing Elenwen's people in turn, and Liriel and Elenwen smiling acidic little smiles at each other at Elenwen's Embassy parties. There'd be a reckoning one day, but not just yet.

“You know,” Sabrinda said, stunned... but there was a new respect for Liriel there. “Wait, you mean they've already tried...”

“Yes,” said Liriel tersely. “In fact, I think getting you up here to try and talk me out of staying here was a last-ditch attempt to shut me up. Nearly worked too.”

Sabrinda was staring at the floor, shocked into silence. Liriel despite everything felt her heart go out to her. Her mother had given most of her life to the Thalmor – to have them turn on her child must be a shock. Honestly, Liriel had expected Sabrinda to rally herself, disown her and insist on Embassy representation or a release without charge. That this hadn't happened was a surprise, but it boded well.

“As I was saying,” Liriel continued. “The Reach claims jurisdiction of this case... but we're mindful that due to outlaws in our own borders, Sabrinda's suffered a loss of her own and has a claim for keteen. We're also aware that Sabrinda when given the chance did assist in rescuing me from the Falmer and has so far co-operated with the authorities. So while we claim jurisdiction, we're waiving the death penalty, but we are imposing conditions.”

Elisif relaxed noticeably, smiling now. “I think I see where this is going – do continue.”

Liriel nodded, took a deep breath and began to list them.

“Firstly, Mother, you're resigning from the Thalmor. Tell them your husband's death has made you rethink your life and you're resigning to seek new direction. I know I can't stop them doing what they want, but one day there will be a reckoning and I would rather my mother is not in the way.”

Sabrinda bowed her head and nodded. “Agreed,” she said quietly. “I was thinking of taking Ancalime and going on a sabbatical anyway.”

A stab of guilt here, but Liriel reminded herself her mother's idea of protection had been to shove her in a trunk, and soldiered on.

“My second condition is I am taking custody of Ancalime.”

“NO!” Sabrinda cried. “No, you can't, she's my baby, she's all I've got left!”

“Mother, you threw me in a trunk because you didn't like my husband!” Liriel sighed. “Not only that, you lied to me my entire life, telling me Altmer only loved once, something you knew wasn't true because you had a fiancee before Daddy! I'm not having Ancalime brought up like that. I want her with me. I've got children already, she's already befriended them. We can care for her in Markarth until she's of age in twenty years or so.”

“You, perhaps,” Sabrinda snapped. “You expect me to hand my baby over to your Skooma junkie husband as well?”

Madanach flinched and Liriel finally lost her temper.

“My _recovering_ Skooma addict husband who managed to stay clean _untreated_ for over a year, and who will shortly be enrolling in the best addiction treatment programme in Tamriel, is a considerably better parent than either you or my father ever were!” Liriel shouted. “And it is not just him, is it? She'll be raised at the court of the Reach-King, with Princess Eola, Steward Nepos and many others keeping an eye on her. She will have the protection of the entire ReachGuard. She will have the King's own daughters as playmates and receive a general and magical education second to none. So do not bring my husband's illness into this, because I assure you the Reach will do all in its power to ensure its King stays clean!”

Sabrinda gave up on Liriel and appealed to Elisif.

“Jarl Elisif, Lady Queen, please, surely you understand a child can't be separated from its mother so young...”

Elisif did look sympathetic... but only up to a point.

“You did lock your older daughter in a trunk,” Elisif said quietly. “I think Liriel's got a valid claim for custody of her little sister under the circumstances. Frankly, after abducting the Queen of the Reach, you're lucky they're not pressing for right to execute. I don't know about the Empire as a whole, but the Reach isn't scared of the Dominion. There's a lot of ReachGuard and those are just the official ones. Unofficially, you can double those numbers, and they're used to guerrilla warfare in their own land. Also they're magic resistant and can wield it as well as you. Take it from us, even if you were to conquer Markarth, they'd just take to the hills, become Forsworn again, except this time, the Nords of Skyrim might just decide any excuse to kill elves would do and take their side. I'm upholding Liriel's arguments on this one. I've seen her with her daughters, she's an excellent mother.”

“We would never interfere with a happily married child's marriage, would we, Madanach?” Liriel said sweetly. 

“Us? Never,” said Madanach innocently, although most of those present guessed that any potential spouse of a child of Madanach could expect intimidation like they'd never known was possible. 

Sabrinda had her head in her hands, weeping softly but she finally nodded once.

“I want to be able to write to her,” Sabrinda said quietly. “And visit. You'll let me have that at least.”

“I will,” Liriel agreed. It wasn't as if this was intended as a punishment even. Liriel just didn't want her little sister reared like she'd been. 

“Is there anything else?” Elisif asked, clearly wondering if there was going to be any actual judicial punishment of any kind. Liriel nodded. There was one thing she had in mind.

“Yes, there's one more. I'm not just letting you go back to Alinor, Mother, you need to make some atonement.”

“As if taking my daughter isn't enough?” Sabrinda snapped. Then she sighed, throwing her hands up in the air. “Very well, what would you have of me? I'm not joining the ReachGuard, no one my age should wear that getup.”

“Not the ReachGuard,” Liriel said with a smile. “No, this is more of a religious service. Tell me, Mother, do you want to know what it truly means to be mer?”

Sabrinda inclined her head, curious. “I truly hope this doesn't involve Daedra worship, daughter. Or whatever other heathen deities you worship in that country – the reports have always been rather vague. Heretical old gods, so I'm told.”

“How's your faith in Auriel?” Liriel asked and that stunned Sabrinda into silence.

“What?” Sabrinda whispered. “But... of course I believe in Auriel, what true mer wouldn't?”

“So do we,” Madanach said, grinning. “We mostly see him as an aspect of Anu, but in a more personalised form. We even found an old site of worship of his right in the Reach – well, Liriel did on one of her adventures. Liriel, I take it that's what you had in mind?”

“I did,” Liriel confirmed. “Founding deity of the Aldmeri people, revered by all elvenkind and by the Reachmen, and we could do with help restoring his temple to its former glory. Madanach has people out there but we could do with an actual elf to help. Well? Want to help manifest the glory of Auriel on Nirn?”

Sabrinda's eyes had widened as Liriel had talked, just as Liriel had known they would. Auriel, Anu incarnate, Aldmeri equivalent of Akatosh, the god who had helped create the mortal world then become disgusted with his creation and sought to offer his devotees a way to become one with the Aedra again, a deity many in Alinor held dear, particularly Thalmor and especially her mother. To become a priestess of Auriel and bring his light to the Reachmen... no, Sabrinda was definitely caught by this prospect. As Liriel had known she would be.

“I must confess I'm in need of spiritual guidance...” Sabrinda whispered. “But... am I to be the only mer there? In a sea of humans?”

“No,” Liriel said quietly. “There's one other there, the present guardian of the shrine. A recluse by nature and still not used to having all these humans around. But I think he'd like having another elf there.”

“Well in that case, who am I to deprive the poor man of elven company?” Sabrinda said, finally smiling. “All right. I accept your terms.”

Sighs of relief all round as the entire room relaxed.

“Thank you,” Liriel said quietly, relieved it had all actually worked out. She just hoped Ancalime reacted well to the news she was going to live in Markarth... but somehow Liriel suspected she'd be all right with it. Especially given the way she'd taken to trailing after Cicero. Apparently she'd seen him shoot three Falmer in semi-darkness without missing once and now idolised him even more. 

“Well, I'm glad that's taken care of,” Elisif said brightly. “I'm so pleased, I really didn't want the unpleasantness of a trial or extradition or involving the Ambassador. There is just one last thing I need dealing with.” The smile didn't shift an inch as Elisif's eyes turned to Madanach. “Where is it.”

“Where's what?” Madanach said innocently. Elisif's eyes hardened although her voice never lost that sweet tone.

“You see, I initially assumed your speedy arrival was due to your teleportal to Deepwood Vale and then hard riding to Solitude, so of course I made sure to send word to the stables to make sure your horses were taken care of. Imagine my surprise when I received word that not only were there no horses from the Reach there, the gate guards hadn't seen you come in. In fact, the first sighting of you in Solitude was you and Borkul emerging from the cellars in the Temple of Divines.” The smile faded as Elisif's lips curled back in a snarl. “Madanach ap Caradach, have you built an illegal teleportal in the catacombs??”

“You haven't,” Liriel said, feeling mortified as she turned to look at her sheepish husband. “Sweet Aedra, you have, haven't you.”

“It's only a small one!” Madanach protested. “Barely noticeable, you'd hardly know it was there. And its use saved the life of a sweet young Elven child, so who is complaining now, hmm?”

Elisif was staring him down, face a mask of fury and Madanach actually edged closer to Liriel. She might be young, she might not be much of a warrior and certainly no mage, but she was as fierce as any of her kinsmen.

“Get it out of my _city,_ ” Elisif hissed, getting to her feet, and for an unarmed Nord girl, she was doing a very good job of intimidating Madanach, who had actually reached for Liriel's hand and was turning pleading eyes on Argis.

“Don't look at me, Da, she told you you weren't allowed and you did it anyway,” Argis sighed. “I can't exactly help you here.”

“He'll be removing it,” Liriel said, squeezing Madanach's hand rather tighter than was strictly necessary. “We'll go down there tomorrow and he'll close it for you. Won't we, cariad?” A pointed glare from Liriel and Madanach finally gave in, knowing when he was beaten.

“Fine, I'll get it closed,” he muttered. Elisif sat down again, mollified.

“You will do that very thing,” Elisif said tersely. “You'll do it if I have to stand over you myself and watch it.”

And so the following day found the Jarl herself in a set of scaled armour and the Jagged Crown marching the former King in Rags down into Potema's Catacombs along with Liriel and Argis and Borkul and Jordis and Sybille Stentor and Bolgeir Bearclaw and Cicero and little Ancalime who wasn't supposed to be there but had crept after them all because she was curious and bored and they didn't realise she was there until it was too late to send her back. And Madanach duly closed the portal down.

Liriel stayed in Solitude a week longer before deciding it was time to go home. She'd already written to Eola to get the Falmer hive at Chillwind Depths taken care of, and word had come in that not only had it been cleared out, the entrance had been destroyed in a carefully engineered rockfall, which pleased everyone no end.

Meryndor's funeral was rather less pleasing, Ancalime sobbing throughout in her mother's arms, but it turned out the spell used by Altmer to light a cremation pyre was the same as the one the Reachmen used, so they were able to give him the rites he'd have wanted. Sabrinda took a few locks of his hair beforehand, setting them in lockets for her, Liriel and Ancalime to have one each. The ashes were being sent back to Liriel's older brother Haldyn, along with a letter from Sabrinda breaking the news to her son and telling him she was sorry but she couldn't face living in Alinor without her husband and was staying out here, but to send any post to Understone Keep in Markarth, care of Liriel.

Ancalime cried even more when Sabrinda told her not only were they not going back to Alinor but that she was leaving too, but she cheered up a bit on learning she was going to live in Markarth.

“I can play with Sissel and Lucia every day?” Ancalime whispered, amazed.

“Hope so, you'll be sharing a room with them,” Madanach snorted. Liriel had already written to Eola to ask her to make the arrangements, and apparently Sissel and Lucia were already very excited to be getting a new foster-sister. 

“And – and is Cicero going to live there too?” Ancalime asked hopefully.

“Of course!” Cicero cooed. “When Cicero is not busy tending to Mother and serving the will of the Dread Father, Cicero is often in Markarth!”

Ancalime had promptly launched herself at Cicero, cuddling him half to death and saying she was glad, she would have missed him if she'd gone back to Alinor. Of course, that reminded her she'd lost one parent and her other one was going away for a long time, and she started crying again, but fortunately Cicero was a lot better at dealing with crying children than anyone gave him credit for and cooed and fussed over her until she was feeling better.

About the only real fly in the ointment was Madanach. Further doses of the anti-Skooma potions had arrived for him, enough to see out a whole month, and he made a point of drinking one in front of Liriel every morning. It saddened her to see him forced on to them, but the alternative was worse. All the same, to see her strong, fierce husband weakened like this... it hurt to watch. Still, she appreciated him going out of his way to let her see him take them. It wasn't quite the same as full enrolment in the programme, but it boded well. That wasn't the problem.

The problem was Lirela, or rather her mother, and the fact Elisif didn't seem to like letting Madanach be around her so much now she knew about the addiction. She hadn't exactly stopped Madanach seeing Lirela, but she was definitely there whenever Madanach was around her daughter, watching keenly in a way she never had before and gripping her chair whenever Madanach held her. It got to the stage Madanach stopped going over or would hand Lirela back or over to Liriel, an outcome which pleased neither grandfather or granddaughter. Lirela might only be seven months old but she definitely seemed keen on her grandfather, and the feeling was quite mutual.

“Did you want me to talk to her?” Liriel whispered that night in bed.

“No,” Madanach sighed, staring at the ceiling. “Wouldn't do any good. She's just a mother looking out for her baby. Probably for the best I don't see Lirela that often. Best she doesn't get attached or anything. I'll just disappoint her.”

“Sweetie,” Liriel whispered, snuggling closer and cuddling him. “You're her grandfather. That little girl loves you already. It's not fair you screw up once and hardly get to see her any more.”

“Life isn't fair, cariad,” Madanach said quietly, turning to face her. “You fall in love and it's with a Skooma-addled wreck who's well past his best. Ancalime comes to visit her big sister and loses her father. I'm not even sure Meryndor deserved to die the way he did. I know Eithne and Amaleen never deserved what happened to them. And I don't deserve you, never did.”

“Tough, you're stuck with me,” Liriel said, kissing him on the cheek and holding her to him. “And you are not past it. You're still in good health, still strong, you're one of the brightest people I've ever met. You've got so much left to offer. I just wish you could see it, see yourself as I do.”

“You're the only one who does,” Madanach said bitterly. “Elisif found out I took Skooma and now addict is all she sees, and she doesn't like Lirela being anywhere near me. Effectively I just lost my granddaughter and... it's not fair, Liriel but what can I do?”

It really wasn't fair. Liriel loved watching Madanach with children, his entire demeanour changed from stern and forbidding warlord king to kind and friendly father-figure. Especially when babies were involved. She'd seen him get emotional over Lirela, then as she got older and more responsive, the two of them actually start to bond. It always made Liriel sniffle a little bit to watch, because it was cute and also something he'd never do with their own child. At least having Lirela had assuaged Liriel's sadness over that a bit and given them both an outlet. Now Madanach looked set to lose even that.

“I'll talk to her,” Liriel said firmly. “You don't have any other grandchildren yet, and it's not like we're going to have a baby. It's not fair one mistake costs you your granddaughter.”

Choked little cry from him and he held her tighter, saying nothing but Liriel could sense something in him, as if he desperately wanted to say something but didn't know how.

“What?” she asked, ruffling his hair. “What is it? Something's on your mind, what's up?”

When Madanach finally did speak, he sounded very hesitant and unsure of himself.

“Cariad, this is probably a ridiculous question, I know you're extremely conscientious about your potions but... is there any way you could be pregnant?”

“Pregnant? Me?” Liriel said, confused and wondering what brought that on. Of course not, she'd had a period... a while ago, now she came to think of it, although Altmer only bled three times a year, she was sure she should have had one in the last four months and it hadn't come. But maybe it was the stress of getting married and adventuring. Not like she'd had morning sickness or anything, although the nausea and exhaustion – no. Just due to being injured, that was all. Not like she'd had sex without potions lately... apart from that time just after Irkngthand when she'd got back to Markarth to a husband who'd feared her dead or injured and swept her off to bed before she'd had a chance to take anything. 

“I don't think so,” Liriel said softly, but she was shaking all over, about ready to cry or scream or... no, not pregnant, not happening, she wasn't pregnant by her human husband who was _going to die,_ no no no! “I mean, I was on potions, the only time I skipped them was after getting back from Irkngthand – I ran out, didn't have enough on me, wasn't able to get redosed until the day after I got back...”

“Two months ago,” Madanach whispered and was that terror in his voice? Definitely shock, she knew that. “And you weren't on anything when you got back, and we...”

Madanach had closed court, swept her off her feet and carried her back into their bedroom, stripped her armour off and slid into her with barely a pause, kissing her fiercely as if he couldn't stand being apart from her, and only now did Liriel wonder if perhaps he'd had Skooma cravings making him desperate on top of worry and lust. But that hardly mattered now, did it?

“You take them too,” Liriel said, her throat dry. “Every two weeks, I see you do it.”

“Not that time,” Madanach breathed, sounding on the verge of either hysterical laughter or tears, Liriel couldn't tell and had a feeling he didn't know either. “I'd had some chest infection or other three weeks before, got sick just after you left. The potions they give you for that conflict with the contraceptive ones so I didn't bother taking one seeing as you weren't here and I was too ill to feel like getting up to anything anyway. Wasn't until the morning after you got back I belatedly realised I was due a dose and took some. Liriel? Liriel, say something.”

Liriel couldn't. She could barely focus on breathing, never mind speaking, tears welling up in her eyes. Pregnant, no no, this hadn't been in the plan, it hadn't, she couldn't be a single mother of a small child who might not even be Ancalime's age, she couldn't inflict the grief of losing its father on her own flesh and blood. Obviously she'd have to get rid of it, every alchemist in Skyrim had potions dealing with that, Babette could do it without asking any awkward questions, there was no way she could keep this child. 

Except she kept imagining an armful of warm, fat baby with golden skin and red hair and Madanach's eyes (and what would a half-blood look like anyway?) and Liriel realised she couldn't do it. She couldn't sacrifice her and Madanach's child, and Liriel's heart broke as she dissolved into tears in Madanach's arms.

“Liriel, Liriel, oh gods, Liriel, don't. Don't, please, I'm so sorry,” Madanach was whispering to her as he cradled her in his arms, raining kisses on top of her head as he clutched her to him, and she could feel tears on his own cheeks. He'd always said he'd do it if she really wanted one, he'd even begged her after Kaie's death, rather having a half-blood heir than lose her, before he'd known Eola still lived. 

“I can't!” Liriel wailed. “I can't!”

“I understand.” Those were the words but she could feel the grief behind them, the knowledge he wanted that half-blood baby too. “You don't have to keep it, I won't force you... never that.”

“I don't want to get rid of it!” Liriel howled, clinging on to her husband, her frail, ageing, human husband. “I want to have our baby with you, but you're going to die!”

A pause as he held her close and she could feel his emotions shifting, his mind hard at work... and then everything coalesced into grim determination.

“I'll do it.”

“What?” Liriel whispered, not entirely sure what he was talking about. Raise a child with her? Not die? He couldn't help that, no human could.

“I'll take the blood. I'll let your friend Serana turn me. I'll become a vampire.”

“You'll what?” Liriel looked up, shocked out of crying. He'd always showed disdain for vampirism before, despite legalising consensual blood-drinking and giving vampires protected legal status (Isran was still not speaking to Liriel over it). He'd always said he'd prefer to die like a true Reachman when his time finally came, and since Kaie died, he'd not so secretly been looking forward to seeing her again some day. The whole reason she'd sided with the Dawnguard in the first place had been because of Madanach and because she'd known he'd not want a vampire wife and he'd know exactly what she was. Madanach volunteering to become one??

“You heard, cariad,” Madanach said quietly. “If it's the only way to stop me ageing and dying... I'll do it. If it'll make you happy. If it means I get to see our child grow up.”

“But... you won't be able to go out in the sun any more,” Liriel whispered. “And you'll have to drink blood!”

“Good thing my Keep's underground, isn't it?” Madanach murmured. “And that I agreed to that blood donation programme idea of Keirine's.”

“And what about Eola? If you don't age and die, she never inherits!” Liriel pointed out. Madanach just shrugged.

“I'm not King right now, thanks to Eola,” Madanach said, still sounding a little bitter over the whole regency business. “And from what you told me, she didn't want the job in the first place. So if I do get the throne back, I'll give the Reach twenty-five years then abdicate in her favour, how's that?”

“I will hold you to that!” Liriel laughed, feeling a little light-headed. Madanach... not dying. Madanach immortal, if undead, able to live on with her, raise their child together... it was more than she could ever have hoped for. If Liriel was able to cope with a vampire for a husband, and dear gods, if Serana turned him, he'd have a vampire lord form. Married to a vampire lord, and he already looked like death itself in that armour.

The other reason Liriel had had no choice but to kill Harkon made its presence felt and Liriel squirmed uncomfortably in Madanach's arms, hoping he wouldn't notice. 

He noticed.

“Are you all right with this, cariad?” Madanach asked, frowning. “I know it's a bit unexpected but you're used to all sorts of unusual things happening. I would have thought if anyone could cope with a vampire husband, it'd be you.”

“I'm fine with it!” Liriel gasped breathlessly. “I mean... if you are.”

“I don't know, but I do know our child will need me and so will you. So I'm doing it.” Madanach looked at her, still frowning as he stroked her face. “Cariad, what is it, you're shaking all over and I swear... is there something you want to tell me?” 

The game was clearly up. He could tell how she was feeling, and he was her husband after all. Not like she'd given in or anything, right?

“When Serana turns you, you'll have the option of turning into a vampire lord. Bigger than a human, stronger, and you'll have limited flight ability, lots of new spells at your command, and your face will look different. Harkon showed me his when he offered to turn me, but I don't know what yours will be like.”

“Yes, you said he could change form,” Madanach murmured. “But you turned it down, you came back here and then you went out and killed him. I always thought the idea repulsed you, it was another reason I always said no before.”

Liriel shook her head, hardly daring to look him in the eye, blushing furiously.

“It doesn't repulse me,” she said in a tiny voice. “That... that wasn't why I said no to him.”

“You wanted to be a vampire?” Madanach asked, stroking her hair but something in his voice seemed to guess the truth. Defeated, Liriel shook her head.

“I wanted him,” she whispered. “He was dark and dangerous and strong and I wanted him... and then he changed forms into this daedric vampire fiend... and I wanted him even more. That's why I turned against him, that's why I had to kill him, it was the only way to avoid temptation and I already had you!”

Silence, but it wasn't hate she was getting off him. Just quiet processing of all this... and then a dark sense of amusement that usually heralded a bad time for someone.

“Are you telling me you killed him not to save the world but because it was the only way to avoid betraying me?”

Liriel nodded, deeply embarrassed and deeply ashamed, and things only got worse as he rolled her onto her back, lying on top of her with a grin on his face, the Madanach of old well and truly back.

“Are you saying that it is in fact one of your deepest fantasies to be bent over a hard surface and taken hard from behind by a vampire lord while he sinks his teeth into your shoulder?”

Liriel actually whimpered at the mere thought, her loins on fire as Madanach pinned her down, teeth grazing her ear. Sithis yes, she'd wanted it all right, craved Harkon inside her, her very blood his to take – of course she'd had to kill him. She'd had no choice in the matter, felt revolted at finding a vampire lord attractive... but if she'd already married a vampire lord...

“Liriel Dragonborn, you perverted little slut,” Madanach breathed into her ear but she could hear the arousal in his voice, feel how turned on he was and all she could do was whimper and writhe beneath him.

“You should have told me this before, I'd have said yes in a heartbeat if I'd known you actually _wanted_ a vampire in your bed,” Madanach laughed, nudging her legs apart and sliding between them.

“You wouldn't have got me pregnant if you'd been turned,” Liriel breathed, gasping as Madanach's fingers trailed over her... and stopped as his hand rested on her stomach.

“No,” he said quietly, playful mood vanishing for the moment. “And I'm not going to be turned until after you've given birth, ideally not until you've weaned it. I think I want to hold my child as a living man at least once. But after... once you're done providing food for our child... I'm getting turned and then, my Liriel, then your blood is mine.”

Liriel couldn't help but moan, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him closer, parting her legs as he bit her neck at the point it met her shoulders, and from that point on it was all clutching at each other, biting, moaning, growling and whimpering as Madanach for the first time in days finally felt like his old self again and Liriel for her part wanted nothing more than her husband back, crying and gasping as he sank inside her, taking her hard and fast until she was screaming his name and then Madanach came too, collapsing on top of her and realising as he did so that he didn't feel a single craving for anything, just a bone-deep sense of contentment and peace.

Maybe love didn't fix everything on its own, Madanach knew that even if Liriel wasn't entirely sure. But it did give you the motivation to start fixing what was wrong using other means. And as both of them drifted off to sleep in each other's arms, the two of them basked in each other's affection, held each other tight and whispered little promises to each other that they'd love each other always, be there always, never leave, no never. Bound by magic and with love, their marriage was stronger than ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cute ending, no? Madanach's going to make an awesome vampire lord, as you would expect from someone already skilled in Destruction and Illusion magic.
> 
> Next chapter, Sabrinda's plot arc gets wrapped up and then it's all back to Markarth to share the good news.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sabrinda starts her exile, unaware her arrival had more of an impact than she realises. Meanwhile, it's time for Liriel and Madanach to go home and for Madanach to face both the consequences of his actions and his heir to the throne. However, there's another threat awaiting them... but the Reach will always look after its own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Massive Dawnguard spoilers in this one, I'm so sorry, I should have possibly flagged this up a little earlier. Although I'm guessing most of you who are going to have played it by now, right?

Sabrinda staggered through the glacial ravine, clutching the ewer to her, trying not to spill any of it, and how had her daughter managed this, how?? And fighting two dragons and the Falmer along the way, not really knowing where she was going to boot. Sabrinda's image of Liriel as a helpless and immature child who didn't know what was best for her had taken a knock the first time she'd seen her kill a dragon and had been on shaky ground ever since, but she'd seen an adult before her in the Blue Palace and having to undergo this ordeal of Auriel... Sabrinda's respect for her daughter couldn't have been higher.

At least now the Reachmen had come in and cleared out the Falmer – Snow Elf, did it mean? Sabrinda refused to think of those things that had killed her beloved Meryndor as elves – and former Falmer dwellings had been either abandoned or scoured clean and occupied by fur-clad Reachmen and women. There were even children here. Sabrinda had to hand it to them, the Vale was pretty, and they'd done well for themselves, even built a small town in the Vale's warmer southern reaches, a growing settlement called Baila Siantri – Chantryville.

But none of them would help someone clearly on the pilgrim's trail to the Inner Sanctum, other than to offer quiet words of encouragement and the occasional discreet healing spell. So through the ice and snow and glacial crevasses Sabrinda went, the ewer growing heavier at each wayshrine and honestly Sabrinda felt like she was about to collapse. 

Then the last shrine and there it was up ahead, architecture like nothing Sabrinda had ever seen, and despite the scaffolding where it was clearly being rebuilt after some accident or possibly decades of neglect, it looked beautiful. Like a gift of Auriel himself.

_Auriel help me, I'm coming._

Sabrinda staggered over the bridge and up the stairs and then, thank Auriel, the sacred bowl right there, waiting to receive the gift she'd been given. Auriel's wisdom, an increasing burden when hoarded, but once shared, capable of nourishing all creation. Sabrinda poured it out, feeling the relief as the ewer emptied and the doors opened. And as she staggered in, collapsing to her knees, it was as if one of Auriel's Aedra was standing over her, welcoming her home.

“Sister,” he said quietly. “Welcome.”

“Thank you,” Sabrinda whispered, feeling her grief and pain fade away as she realised it was going to be all right, Auriel would care for her husband and for her too if she let him, and she'd see Ancalime again one day. Secure in the love of Auriel, she closed her eyes and passed out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

“This is not going to work, Liriel.”

They'd carried Sabrinda to a small side room in the Chantry and tucked her up in bed. Various Forsworn healers had been in and out, and the ex-Justiciar was now fast asleep, watched over by Knight-Paladin Gelebor, reluctant leader of the revived cult of Auriel, and Liriel Dragonborn, an important figure in the cult's developing theology even if she didn't visit all that often.

“Why not?” Liriel sighed. “You've been complaining for weeks about being the only mer here, so I brought you one. She's a daughter of Auriel who lost her way and her husband and needed spiritual guidance, so I thought of you. What's the problem?”

“The problem?? Liriel, I'm a Knight-Paladin of Auriel!” Gelebor snapped. “I'm _sworn to celibacy!_ ”

“And?” Liriel said, confused. “She's a grieving widow, she won't want anyone else. Anyway, it's not like you've not fathered half the young babies in Baila Siantri.”

“That is different,” Gelebor said sternly. “That was your Matriarch Keirine arriving with several vials and insisting I supply her with seed so she can try and rebreed the Snow Elves. So I did as asked and frankly I regret even that.”

“But they're cute!” Liriel protested, having had the chance to fuss over a few half-Snow Elf half-Reachchild babies and squealed over them. Not elves themselves of course, but tiny and perfect and some of them even had pointed ears. Then there were Keirine's experiments with captured Falmer females locked away in dark caves somewhere, but less said about those the better. But Reachmen loved elves, and it turned out some of the Snow Elves who'd fled the Nords had taken refuge with them. None left alive, of course, but they'd left their mark.

“It's an affront to Auriel to bring more lives into this broken world,” Gelebor said, glowering. “But I don't really expect humans to understand that and their lives are so short, I suppose they need to breed. But this... you bring me another mer to be Knight-Paladin, and you fail to mention she's a beautiful woman in her prime??”

Technically true, but Liriel honestly hadn't ever considered thinking of Sabrinda that way. Gelebor taking one look and fallen in lust wasn't something Liriel had factored in at all.

“Gelebor, that's my mother!” Liriel cried, appalled. “She was happily married to my father until barely two weeks ago! Then the Betrayed killed him.”

Gelebor was kneeling by her bedside, and if he'd looked unhappy before, now he looked downright grieved.

“The Betrayed killed your father and now you think it a good idea to bring your grieving newly-widowed mother to the Sanctum of their ancestors?” Gelebor asked, pained.

“It's not the same,” Liriel said quietly. “This is a place of peace and healing. I was hoping it might help her move on.”

“Move on,” Gelebor said, shaking his head. “We move on from grief in our own time, Liriel. Who can say if we can help her. But we can try, I suppose. I just... I'm not sure I can adequately counsel her if she's a living temptation in front of me every day.”

“What are you going to do, rape her?” Liriel growled. “You'd better not, I'll be down here if any harm comes to her.”

“No of course not!” Gelebor sighed. “It's just... well, Auriel does like to test us, doesn't he? And I could use help guarding the shrine – the Reachfolk are all well and good but their worship of Auriel isn't what we used to venerate him as.”

The Reachmen venerated Auriel as a fertility deity, the source of all life and bounty, and the contrast with the austere deity the elves had worshipped, the father who'd turned against his creation, could not be more stark. But Gelebor adapted. Truth be told, the mer had been glad of people to talk to, although less glad to have pretty young Reach girls queueing up, eager to receive Auriel's divine essence from his Knight-Paladin. Fortunately Keirine had intervened and sternly told them all to go back to their homes, Auriel's gifts had to be earned.

“Well, look at it this way,” Liriel said hopefully. “Mother has a similar view of Auriel to you. Now at least you won't feel so alone.”

“I rather think that's the problem,” Gelebor sighed. “But all the same, if she wishes to stay, she's welcome. We'll take care of her. If she's just lost her husband, I don't suppose there's any chance she'll return my affections anyway. I'm sure they'll get more brotherly over time if they're not reciprocated.”

Liriel smiled and made her farewells before heading back to the wayshrines. She grieved her father horribly and always would. But it seemed she'd found a new home for her mother, and quite possibly a new love for her in time. Little Altmer-Falmer siblings in the fullness of time? Maybe. In the mean time, Liriel needed to get back to the Reach. Her full-blooded Altmer sister needed her more.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Liriel had collected Jordis from Baila Siantri's tavern, the Golden Cock (gleaming golden rooster on the tavern sign although Liriel was fairly certain that was not how the place had got its name) and made her way back to Cwm Prendwemyn. Madanach and Borkul had been waiting in the Flaming Spriggan, the tavern owned by Madanach's blood-brother Braig and his new wife Shahvee the Argonian. She'd migrated from Windhelm to seek warmer climes and a better-paying job, spent her evenings in the Spriggan with the rest of the town and ended up chatting to Braig most nights. Romance had blossomed and the two were now deeply in love. It was a very sweet sight to see and always warmed Liriel's heart whenever she visited. Madanach had greeted her with a kiss and pulled her onto his lap and they'd all proceeded to have a very good evening. 

Liriel's good mood had lasted up until the following morning when Madanach had cheerfully informed Jordis that a housecarl all the way in Solitude when Liriel actually lived in Markarth was no use to anyone, and that it would be better for everyone if Jordis moved to the Reach to better guard Liriel there. Liriel had been on the verge of outrage until she'd seen the hopeful look in Borkul's eyes as he looked at Jordis, and at that point she'd relented. Maybe Jordis would say yes, maybe no, but she should at least give them the opportunity to court.

Then back to Markarth, the portal having re-opened by this point once Eola had had word Liriel was fine, and it felt very strange indeed to be walking the streets of Markarth again after all that had happened. Ancalime was clutching at her sister, looking nervously about her and by this point word of Meryndor's death had got here. There were plenty of sympathetic looks for the little elfling.

Despite the regency, the ReachGuard still stood to attention when Madanach walked past and Liriel had the feeling he could have given any order he felt like and the entire ReachGuard would have followed regardless.

“DADDY! _MAMA!_ ” Sissel was running up from the marketplace to greet them and threw herself on to her mother, cuddling her for all she was worth. “You're OK, you're OK, Eola said you'd been kidnapped! We were so worried!”

“So was I,” Liriel whispered, hugging her little girl. “But I'm fine now, your father found me and rescued me. I'm all better now, look.”

Sissel promptly ran to give her father a cuddle too, and then it was Lucia's turn.

“You're back!” Lucia whispered, and it was the torc round her neck and ReachGuard soldiers following at a safe distance that really brought home to Liriel that things had changed. 

“Isn't that Eola's?” Liriel asked, fingering it. Lucia shook her head.

“Yes. Well, no. She said I should wear it because I'm heir to the throne if anything happens to her, and she signed a law putting me and Sissel into the succession, and now we have to have guards and Daddy was ill and had to have the healers called and I was scared and Eola was scared and Eola's never scared and you weren't here and...!” Lucia wiped a tear away, and Liriel could see the terror and betrayal and so help her if Madanach ever took Skooma again, if he ever upset her babies like this in future...

“I'm here now,” Liriel whispered, pulling her into her arms. “I'm not leaving you, kitten. We're back now, we're home, it's all right honey, it's all right.”

Lucia clung on to her mother until she felt better, then her horribly guilty-looking father was next, holding her tight and telling her he was sorry, so sorry for putting her through that and he was never going to let it happen again. And then Sissel and Lucia had both noticed Ancalime, hanging back and huddling up and missing her own parents horribly.

“Hello Cali, is it true? Are you coming to live here now?” Sissel asked. Ancalime nodded, looking uncertain.

“We're sorry about your daddy,” Lucia said softly. “But you don't need to be scared, we'll look after you.”

“We decorated your bed!” Sissel said hopefully. “Nepos said we could so we painted it for you. Except we're not sure what you liked so you've got stars and moons and fish. Because they're easier to draw.”

Ancalime giggled and got her jester doll out.

“I've got a little Cicero, look! Mamma made him for me because she knew I wanted one. Except now she's gone away too and... and I miss her. But Liriel went away for ages and ages and AGES and I got to see her again so maybe I'll see Mamma again soon too.”

“Maybe you will, Cali-cat,” Liriel said, rubbing her sister's back. “All right, let's get back to the Keep. We need to tell Eola we're back.”

“Yes, we do, don't we,” Madanach said, smiling faintly although there was little humour there. “Let's see if she's willing to listen to reason.”

Liriel bit back the comment on Eola getting that from him. She suspected it wouldn't help. But from Eola's most recent letter, she also suspected Madanach's chances of being King again were better than he thought.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eola was indeed holding court from the Mournful Throne when they arrived, Nepos and Keirine flanking her and ReachGuard everywhere... and she wasn't alone. A small group was standing at the foot of the throne and Liriel's heart sank as she saw gleaming golden eagle armour and the blue robes of a Justiciar – no, not a Justiciar. Elenwen herself was here, and that did not bode well.

“Ambassador, I appreciate your concern but surely this is an internal Thalmor matter?” Eola was asking, and Madanach growled to see her wearing Miraak's robes.

“She steals my clothes as well as my throne?” he muttered to Liriel.

“I'll get her to give the robes back,” Liriel conceded – those had after all been a birthday present from a wife to her husband, not a gift of tribute to a king. But right now, Elenwen was the bigger problem. 

“Isn't that Ambassador Elenwen?” Ancalime asked, curious. “What's she doing here?”

“I don't know, but it can't be good,” Liriel said, approaching warily.

“A noted Justiciar resigns without warning and disappears without even stopping to explain herself in person, and she was last seen leaving Solitude with her daughters and your king,” Elenwen snapped, tapping her foot. “We have one dead Aldmeri citizen whose remains need to go back to the Dominion, Sabrinda apparently going AWOL, and a small child to locate and return back to her older brother in Alinor if we can't find her mother. And all the available evidence appears to point back to Markarth and the Mournful Throne. So I will ask again. Where. Is. Sabrinda?”

Damn it. Liriel should have known Elenwen would start poking her nose in where it wasn't wanted sooner or later. Time to resort to drastic measures.

“Cicero,” Liriel whispered, beckoning to the Keeper, who was skipping along with Sissel and Ancalime. “I think your wife's missed you. Go and say hello.”

Cicero looked up, eyes falling on Eola and lighting up. “She has, she has!” Cicero sighed, besotted look in his eyes as he let go of Sissel and Ancalime's hands and sprinted up the corridor. “SWEETLING! EOLA MY LITTLE SWEETROLL, CICERO IS BACK!”

“Good call,” Madanach murmured, squeezing Liriel's hand as Cicero bounced past a momentarily stunned Elenwen, up the steps and right into Eola's lap. Eola cried out as she caught him, smoothly guiding him onto her lap and promptly kissing him, not seeming to care about the Thalmor Ambassador's presence.

“Thank the gods, I was starting to think you'd got tired of me already!” Eola laughed, smiling up at Cicero, who gasped in horror.

“No sweetling, never sweetling! Cicero missed his precious sugar dumpling, he did!”

“Glad to hear it,” Eola smirked. “Sweetie, I'm trying to hold court here. We've got visitors, look.”

Cicero turned to look at Elenwen, eyes narrowing and lips curving into a cruel little smile that was the mirror of Eola's own. “So I saw,” he purred. “What does my lovely want done with them, hmm?”

“Nothing, for now,” Eola said, seeming quite cheerful now her husband was back. “They wanted to know where Liriel's ma was. Problem with her letter of resignation apparently. Or so they tell me. Not like I need to know about Thalmor personnel issues, is it?”

“Given the number of Thalmor personnel that have gone missing in or near the Reach, I'd say you might want to take a little more interest in the Thalmor,” Elenwen said, glaring at them both. “Skyrim has beasts as well and far more marauders than the Reach, and yet we lose three times the number of people here than we do elsewhere. The terrain isn't that rough, Princess! So tell me, before I take this to the General, what exactly happened to Sabrinda? Is she another disappearance like the others?”

“She's alive and well,” Liriel announced, deciding that if the Thalmor were going to try to use her blood family to get at her in-laws, she should probably intervene. “But don't bother hassling Eola. She doesn't know where Sabrinda is. My mother's mourning my father, isn't up to parenting at the moment and has gone on a pilgrimage to recover. Ancalime is staying with me. I see no need for the Thalmor to interfere in any of this. This is a family matter and we'd like a bit of privacy. Cali's very upset over the whole thing and needs stability.”

“Precisely, which is why she needs to go back to Alinor,” Elenwen snapped, turning on Liriel. “I hardly think this city's a suitable environment for an elven child. Between the smelter smoke, a sealed house no one's allowed in because it was used for Daedra worship, the goats' heads everywhere and allowing Skooma addicts in what passes for society, I hardly think Markarth's a suitable environment for anyone, let alone a well-bred Altmer child.”

Liriel was vaguely aware of Madanach flexing his fingers, lightning crackling, and while she had a feeling no one would exactly stop him if he did kill Elenwen, Liriel could do without the coverup and could definitely do without her kids seeing it.

“You are not taking my sister!” Liriel snapped. “Children, your room, all three of you. Now.”

Sissel and Lucia didn't need telling twice and swiftly shepherded Ancalime off to their bedroom, Ancalime protesting that she wanted to stay in Markarth, she liked it here.

“You heard her, Ambassador,” Madanach said. “The girl likes Markarth. She's made friends. I really don't see how you can justify claiming custody when her own sister's here.”

“I can justify it quite clearly when one of my Justiciars is missing, and the only witnesses to Meryndor's death are, how shall we put it, not terribly reliable,” Elenwen snapped. “The King Consort says Meryndor was already dead when his party arrived and the only living people there were Sabrinda herself and your... Garra-Lann, do you call him?”

Cicero grinned down at the Ambassador, not needing to be told to edit the truth.

“Cicero was worried!” he cooed. “Cicero wanted to make sure sweet Liriel's family made it to Solitude without harm! Alas, he arrived too late to save Liriel's dear papa from the horrible Falmer, but he was able to help save the sweet little elfling from them.”

“The Dominion's grateful,” Elenwen said, her lip curling. “But that doesn't answer the question of where Sabrinda is now. As it is, I have only this man's word for it that it was Snow Elves that killed Meryndor and not ReachGuard, rogue or otherwise. Convenient that the ReachGuard acted to destroy the cave the attacks were said to be launched from.”

“Hey, we acted at the request of Queen Elisif herself to stop anyone else getting hurt,” Eola snapped. “I've got letters right here, and I know Elisif will say she wanted it done. Do you honestly think the High Queen of Skyrim's in on a plot to assassinate your people?”

“No, of course not,” Elenwen purred. “But I do have to wonder one thing. Why you're in the Mournful Throne, wearing the torc no less while your father ran after your stepmother and her family. More usual to send guards for that, hmm?”

“My wife needed me. I went after her. Forsworn Bond of Matrimony meant I needed to go in person as I was the only one who could track her,” Madanach growled. “So I left Eola in charge. Ambassador, did you have any actual accusations to make, or were you just going to stand here wasting everyone's time?”

Elenwen glared at him, nostrils flaring as she advanced.

“Accusations, is it? I have a letter of resignation that could easily have been forged, one dead mer that may or may not have been killed by your people, and a missing Justiciar who may have gone to find herself, but could also have been made to 'disappear'! And so far, no one is giving me anything in the way of straight answers!”

Madanach glared back, every muscle indicating what he'd like to give Elenwen, but before he could react, Keirine had risen to her feet, the First Matriarch of the Forsworn drawing her illusion cloak about her in such a way that the usual grandmotherly facade got just that bit thinner.

“Brother, there is no point hiding it any longer. We may as well admit it. It is not like we have done anything wrong. Ambassador, Sabrinda is at Cwm Prendwemyn. I have a training institute there, but there's a religious aspect to it as well and Sabrinda's there, communing with the old gods while she decides where her life is going. I hope she stays, she's a talented mage. Of course it's not the most family-friendly place so Ancalime is going to live here, but we plan to arrange regular visits. But don't take my word for it. I was heading back right now, did you want to come with me? You can see for yourselves that she's fine.”

Mollified, Elenwen stood down and acquiesced, falling in behind Keirine as the First Matriarch of the Forsworn swept out of the Keep, nodding to her brother and simply saying welcome back to Liriel.

“You have not heard the last of this, Reach-King,” Elenwen snapped as she passed... then she stopped and inclined her head. “If that's still your title.”

“You can call me sir or my lord, I always answer to those,” Madanach said, gritting his teeth as he stared her down. Elenwen's eyes narrowed, fury oozing out of every pore, but she said nothing, just sweeping out after Keirine, her guards in tow.

It wasn't until she was gone that everyone finally relaxed.

“I knew she'd cause trouble, I just knew it,” Liriel sighed. “What happens when she gets to Deepwood and finds no Sabrinda? Or worse, if Keirine actually takes her to Baila Siantri?” Unlikely, but Liriel really wasn't sure she could rule it out... at least until she saw Madanach smirking and realised perhaps she didn't need to worry quite as much as she thought.

“Don't worry, cariad. I don't think you need to worry about Elenwen ever again. You just let my sister deal with it. She's an old hand at this sort of thing. And speaking of sneaky, treacherous blood kin of mine...” Madanach had folded his arms, glaring up at Eola. “Daughter, you asked me to track Liriel down. I have done so, brought her here and restored harmonious marital relations. I have comforted and reassured our children. I have done all this and successfully avoided falling prey to cravings. That done, could I possibly have my throne back?”

Eola got up, making her way down the steps, Cicero skipping behind her and the surrounding ReachGuard standing to attention as she did so. A true Queen in waiting and while Madanach was certainly proud of her and loved her, no king could ever really be pleased to have such an obviously competent heir around. She finally came to a stop in front of Madanach, Miraak's robes rather too big for her but still looking good regardless. 

“I don't know, I'm starting to get comfortable up there,” Eola mused. “Especially in these – do you know, everyone reacts so differently when I wear these. First sign of the blue and gold and everyone's so respectful, almost to the point of terror. No wonder the Thalmor have robes this colour.”

“They're used to seeing me in them, it's conditioned them to panic,” Madanach growled. “Pity they didn't have the same effect on you, you ungrateful wench.”

“I know, I'm completely undisciplined and unruly,” Eola said, shrugging. “I blame not having a father around in my formative years, what do you think?”

“I think you need to state your terms for handing the torc back and quickly,” Madanach said, barely flinching at the attempted emotional manipulation. Liriel repressed a smile. This, this was the man she'd fallen in love with. Take one kingdom away, and Liriel had a feeling he'd just set out to claim another. One of the High Rock city-states was surely looking a little bit shaky politically, the arrival of a soon-to-be-vampire king in exile might be just the thing to liven things up.

A grin flickered on Eola's lips, and Liriel had a feeling she was thinking the same thing.

“One month,” Eola announced. “In which time you enrol in the programme and see a mind-healer and stay on the meds and be a model husband and father and look after your traumatised children, and then you and me and Liriel and Uraccen and Keirine and Nepos are all going to sit round a table and see if you're ready to get back in the saddle.”

Madanach stared back at her, steely glare as one member of the House of Madanach contested with another... and then the head of the house gave in.

“One month,” Madanach agreed. “And then daughter, we talk. Now if you'll excuse me, I have children to settle down?”

“Of course,” Eola said, stepping back smoothly and indicating for him to leave. “Oh, and Da?”

“Yes?” Madanach said warily, glancing back at her.

“Welcome back,” Eola said softly, the Acting Reach-Queen giving way to the worried daughter. “I missed you. I knew you'd find her.”

Madanach looked genuinely startled, but fatherly affection had to win out at some point. 

“Thank you,” he said, voice gruff but the affection back. “I missed you too. And... I'm sorry you had to see me like that. It won't happen again.”

“I hope not. My father's stronger than that. Better than that.” Eola fingered the robes, hanging a little loose off her narrower shoulders and the hem far nearer the floor than it was when Madanach wore them. “My da's a fighter.”

“All fighters lose at least once in their lives. But I'll do my best, cariad,” Madanach promised. Then he left, making a quick exit before anyone could see the guilt in his eyes, going to see how the younger ones were doing. Leaving Liriel with Eola, the remaining queenliness dying out of her once her father was gone.

“He's still talking to me. Thank Namira,” Eola said, relieved and a little tearful. “And you! We were so worried!”

“I'm sorry,” Liriel said, taking Eola in her arms. “I really am. Madanach's made me bring Jordis here as a permanent housecarl now. He seems to think I need my own after all this.”

“He's probably right,” Eola said dryly. “You were an idiot to go alone, even if they were your parents. But I'm glad you're back.”

“Me too,” Liriel said softly, cuddling the Acting Reach-Queen like she was one of her children, feeling relieved and safe and happy and just glad to be home. Markarth might have smelter-smoke and abandoned former Daedric lairs and a city under the city that required regular ReachGuard patrols to avoid the Falmer invading... but it was Liriel's home and she'd love it always.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

“I trust this won't take long?” Elenwen said, looking askance at the sigils painted on the floor of the former Talos Shrine, soul gems gleaming around the edge. The whole thing reeked of old heathen blood magic, and the ReachGuard men and women standing around the edge of the room were not going out of their way to reassure anyone. Keirine didn't seem that bothered, whispering to one of them before beckoning for the Thalmor to join her.

“Not long at all, it's revolutionised travel in the Reach,” Keirine said cheerfully. “Used to take hours to get to Hag's End from here, now you're there in minutes. Now, are we all inside the circle? Good, good, including all bags and clothes please, nothing over the edge. We had a few nasty accidents in the early days but it should be safe enough for the four of us.”

“Accidents?” Elenwen said warily. “Have you had many people die in this thing?”

“Oh no, hardly any,” Keirine said calmly. “Not once the testing phase was finished anyway, but you never know quite how it's going to work until you've tried it, do you? Now, everyone stay still and remain calm...” Keirine raised her hands, summoned magic, the gems and sigils glowed and purple light flashed all around them, hurtling them through space and time... and when they finally landed, it was immediately apparent this wasn't Hag's End.

“What is this?” Elenwen whispered, staring around at a blasted landscape, crumbling ruins, lightning flashing across a purple sky, and what looked like ghosts wandering around. Then a second later the cold hit her and she and her guards were sinking to their knees, life and magicka seeping out of them. 

Keirine appeared completely unaffected, gesturing at the portal through which they'd come, which to Elenwen's horror, had sealed shut behind them. No way out, and when Keirine turned around, the illusions gone, Elenwen only just managed not to scream. She'd heard of Hagravens of course, but she'd never actually seen one, and the reality, ghoulishly lit up in obscene purple light, was as terrifying as she'd always been told.

“This is the Soul Cairn, Ambassador,” Keirine said, smirking. “Ever wondered where trapped souls go after you enchant with them? This is it.”

“Why...” Elenwen managed, finding it difficult to breathe. “Why bring us here?” But she knew, could see it in Keirine's gloating hag features, in those silver eyes just like her brother's. Keirine was making sure there was no more trouble for the Reach from her.

“Because your machinations broke my brother,” Keirine said, little growl at the back of her throat. “He has stayed clean without help since he got out of prison, and he was happy. He had everything he wanted. The Reach was free, he had children to dote on and a wife who loved him. And you brought her parents here, fed them tales of terror about our country and nearly destroyed him.” She leaned closed, lips pulled back in a snarl to reveal a maw full of jagged, pointy teeth that could rip flesh apart. “And still you won't desist. Still you interfere, accusing us of murdering Thalmor, trying to take little Ancalime away. Because a stable Forsworn kingdom is one of the greatest threats to the Thalmor in Skyrim, because a wealthy mountain fastness guarded by fierce warriors who can resist your magic and use it as well as you can is the last thing the Dominion want when they declare their second war.”

Which was true enough and obvious to anyone with a brain, and Elenwen realised they'd been right to fear the Reachmen. Hedge magic, heretical nonsense, mages from elsewhere had claimed that was all Reach-magic was... but Elenwen knew in that instant they'd not known the half of it.

“You won't get away with this,” Elenwen whispered, trying to summon her magicka to cast a fire spell but her strength was failing as this horrible realm drained her dry. “The Embassy will find out and that war could happen sooner than you wanted.”

“Perhaps,” Keirine shrugged. “But very convincing illusory versions of you and your guards will be leaving Hag's End half an hour from now, loudly complaining about us, be seen leaving the town, return to your Embassy where the illusory you will file a report stating there's no real evidence of wrongdoing despite what you'd hoped, and then the witches wearing the illusions will all port out back to Hag's End. Leaving a vanished Ambassador and none of it our problem. Meanwhile the Ideal Masters get your souls and we get a bit of peace from you people. I don't see a problem.”

Elenwen would have responded but she'd passed out by this point. Keirine just looked down and shrugged, before teleporting back to Hag's End to arrange the cover-up, making a mental note to thank Valerica from the bottom of her heart. Keirine trusted no promise the Ideal Masters made, but the Soul Cairn was the perfect place to hide bodies. Not that she made a habit of murder, not exactly. But even a Hag still loved her twin brother, and no one hurt Madanach and lived. No one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alas, poor Elenwen. She will be sorely missed, hem hem.
> 
> Next chapter may be the last, the fic is genuinely drawing to a close. Just the last few plot ends to resolve and a couple of epilogue-ey bits looking into the future. No more than two chapters at most. I will really miss this lot. Thank you for reading and commenting, I'm glad you're enjoying this!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEARLY THE END! I have actually finished it, the next chapter after this is definitely the last. This one wraps up most of the loose ends for you, although not everything, it must be said. As the next chapter is done, you will not have to wait too long for it.
> 
> Summary: The Regency wasn't intended to last forever, but there's a few formalities first. Meanwhile Elisif is wondering if she was perhaps a bit harsh on Madanach, and Liriel isn't going to stay pregnant forever...
> 
> Warnings for childbirth (but not in any way that detailed) and, er, implied cannibalism involving the Ring of Namira.

One month later, and Madanach as promised had been a model husband and father. He'd not missed a dose of any of his anti-Skooma meds. He'd attended regularly weekly Skooma addict support groups and weekly sessions with a Forsworn mind-healer. Erandur had finally arrived in week three and started regular one-on-one counselling with Madanach as well, and it seemed to be going well. 

Lucia and Sissel had both been a bit clingier than usual, but with Madanach around as almost full-time father for once, things had gone better than they might have. Lucia in particular had spent a lot of time alone with Madanach, quietly asking him what had actually happened, and Madanach, having taken on board the whole making amends to anyone the addiction had hurt bit of the programme, had answered her questions, from “what is Skooma?” to “why did you take it in the first place if you knew it was addictive?” to “were you and Mama really going to stop being married?” Difficult conversations to have, but Lucia hugged him afterwards and thanked him and told him grown-ups normally didn't like telling children what was really going on, but she was glad he had. 

“And how are you ever going to be able to trust me again if I lie to you, hmm?” Madanach had told her, smoothing back her hair as she'd cuddled him. 

“I do trust you,” Lucia whispered, kissing him on the cheek. “I'm just worried about you.”

“So are a lot of other people, and they're going to help keep me healthy. It's not all on you, bachgen,” Madanach had said, feeling anxious and guilty and touched all at once. Lucia had hugged him tighter.

“That's not what I meant,” Lucia said, clinging on to him. “I don't want you to die!”

“Not for a long time yet,” Madanach had said softly, quietly promising yet again he'd stay clean for Lucia's sake if nothing else.

Sissel had turned out to be mostly fine and much reassured by seeing her father apparently healthy, around a lot more and still apparently very much in love with her mother, and the personal magic tuition pretty much sealed the deal. Ancalime joined in with the lessons, very excited to actually learn some proper hands-on magic that could actually do some damage, and if Cicero's influence had gone horribly horribly deep, at least it meant she was smiling again.

“I'm gonna be the best at magic and weapons and sneaking and stabbing and I'm gonna kill ALL the Falmer and no one's mamma or daddy's ever going to die again!” Ancalime announced, cheerfully watching as a training dummy went up in flames. 

“Yes, yes!” Cicero cackled. “The sweet little elfling is certainly very good at it. Maybe little Ancalime lost her real father, but the Dread Father will be very proud of her!” 

“All right, perhaps that's enough fire today,” Madanach had said hastily. “Right, illusion magic. A much neglected school but with practice you too will be able to do things like this.” One spell later and Cicero was lying on the floor, staring into space and cooing at nothing. No one hurt and Cicero quiet for ten minutes, a result in Madanach's book.

As for his relations with his court, things were still tense between Madanach and Nepos and Eola, but at least all three were talking... mostly. Keirine visited regularly, and relations with her were as they always had been – mutually affectionate, even if Keirine did fuss over Madanach a little too much for his liking.

Relations with his queen were better than they'd ever been, and if the two of them paid discreet visits to one of the healers at the clinic, no one paid it any mind, just assuming it was treating Madanach for the by now well-known little Skooma problem. There hadn't been an official announcement about any of it, but the basic story was known – Liriel's in-laws had visited, wreaked havoc on the royal marriage, they'd nearly divorced, Madanach had fallen off the wagon in a fairly major way and then there'd been the kidnapping. Hardly surprising Madanach had taken a leave of absence to sort his family out, was it?

If Liriel's friend Serana started visiting more often too, everyone just thought it was Liriel she was there to see, and wasn't it nice Madanach got on so well with his wife's friends.

And so after a month of Madanach relaxing and spending time with his family, and hanging around with Calcelmo working on some sort of automatically reloading Dwemer crossbow thing, and only nearly shooting Cicero once with the prototype (Madanach insisted it was an accident, Eola strongly suspected otherwise, Liriel ended up dispatching Cicero off on a few contracts before any other incidents happened), the fateful meeting that would decide a kingdom's fate, or at least it's king's, finally convened. 

On one side of the table, Acting Reach-Queen Eola, flanked by Steward Nepos on her right and Matriarch Keirine on her left, with Field-Marshal Uraccen next to Nepos. On the other, Madanach with Liriel sitting next to him and holding his hand. Miraak's robes had been restored to Madanach after a few choice words from Liriel, and he was wearing them today. Eola had opted for a set of scaled armour instead, plus the Torc of Red Eagle.

“How's Uaile?” Madanach asked, feeling a bit guilty over Uraccen's child getting injured in the whole business.

“She's fine,” Uraccen said, glaring. “Holed up at Dead Crone Rock with her stepfather, recovering nicely. Just a bit of bruising and concussion, that's all.”

“That's good to hear,” Madanach said hopefully. Uraccen's stony expression barely changed. Oh good, that was not a promising start.

“Now that we're all here, we know why this meeting's been called,” Eola said calmly. “Two months ago, Nepos and I invoked the Act of Regency in response to the abduction of our Queen Consort by hostile foreign parties and the inability of the Mournful Throne to respond due to our glorious leader's self-intoxication with Skooma, am I correct?”

“When you're done rubbing it in, daughter,” Madanach growled. “Look, I recovered in time, rescued the Queen, she's fine and she's right here, and the threat to the Reach has been averted. I've spent the intervening weeks complying in full with the Skooma treatment programme, as no doubt my healers have told you, so can I please have the Throne back?”

“I've had full reports on your progress, yes,” Eola said smoothly, flipping through various dossiers in front of her. “Minus any confidential medical details, of course, but the entire Slan Gwasanaeth seems united in that you're doing very well.”

“Relieved to hear it,” Madanach snapped. “Now, about the Throne...” Eola had raised a finger, shutting him off.

“The Council have met and discussed matters and we're satisfied there's unlikely to be any further relapses unless some major trauma happens. I hope it never does. Obviously you'll need to remain in the programme as a condition of retaining the kingship, should we choose to hand it back. That's the addiction dealt with. Next, there's the abduction of Queen Liriel.”

“I couldn't have prevented that, I didn't know Sabrinda and Meryndor were going to do that!” Madanach protested. “I'm not even sure they knew they were going to!”

“No, but perhaps if you'd been conscious at the time, you'd have realised something was up?” Uraccen pointed out tersely. “My little girl could have been killed, Madanach!”

“I know, but I couldn't have stopped that, I wasn't even in the room at the time,” Madanach sighed, frustrated.

“Perhaps you should have been!” Uraccen snapped back, arms folded, and for once Madanach sighed and backed down.

“Fine, you're right, I should have been there. I shouldn't have given in to my own dark side and had the discussion I did with Liriel. I should never have let her go, and if I and my guards had been there while Liriel spoke to her parents, this whole thing would have had a different ending, I know. As it is, I'm sorry. I've spent the last two months trying to make amends to Liriel, but if you need anything from me, Uraccen, you know you've only to ask.”

“I don't need anything,” Uraccen said coldly... but then he relented. “But my daughter and I thank you.”

One down from the look of it. Madanach turned back to Eola, still flipping through paperwork.

“Well, daughter? Are you going to blame me for my in-law's actions too?”

Eola ignored him completely and turned to Liriel.

“Well now, Brenhina, what do we think?”

“Eola, he did rescue me,” Liriel said softly. “Maybe he didn't come charging straight out of Markarth with the entire ReachGuard at his back, but he did come and get me. I think he saved my sister.” 

“But not your father,” Nepos said quietly, and that did earn Liriel's wrath.

“Falmer killed my father, not Madanach,” Liriel said furiously. “Now maybe we've had our arguments, but Madanach and I are very happily married and going to remain so. If I don't hold him responsible for my father dying, I don't see why you should.”

Nepos smiled, chuckled to himself and nodded to Eola. “Well argued. Well, I don't think it needs restating that Madanach's been a bit of a fool, but I've also seen him taking care of his and Liriel's children, in particular helping Lucia come to terms with having seen her father off his head on Skooma and in helping Ancalime deal with the loss of her father. He's been doing a good job as far as I can tell.”

“Wait a second – have you been talking to my children??” Madanach cried, leaning forward, hands splayed on the table and half out of his chair.

“There's no law against that, Madanach,” Nepos said stiffly. “Eola?”

“We've had informal conversations with Sissel, Lucia and Ancalime,” Eola said, patting Nepos's hand reassuringly. “We didn't think it was necessary for any kind of formal testimony – Da, don't worry, it was all positive. Sissel was worried, yes, but now you're both back and she's fine with that. Lucia's still worried about you, Da, but she also just wants things to get back to normal. Ancalime I can't call fine because she's not, but she also saw you attacking the ones who killed her father and saving her sister's life. She idolises you, Da. Thinks you're some sort of badass superhero. I keep trying to tell her that's actually her big sister, but she won't hear otherwise.”

“That's nice of her,” Madanach murmured, a little embarrassed but it did the trick of diverting his anger. 

“I knew Eola and Nepos wanted to talk to them, I was there throughout, it was fine,” Liriel said gently. “Our babies love you, cariad.”

Madanach wasn't entirely sure what he thought about Liriel not involving him but he supposed he was in no position to argue, so he just held her hand.

“So,” Eola continued. “Queen rescued, children fine, Skooma habit under control, royal marriage healthy, what else? Oh yes, diplomatic relations – what's the response from the Dominion on all this? Any trouble?”

“None,” Nepos said cheerfully. “Elenwen's last report before she mysteriously vanished stated there was no real evidence of any inappropriate action on our part, and Sabrinda's been in touch since with both her superiors in the Thalmor and her son to reassure them she's safe and has chosen to seclude herself while she mourns.”

Liriel had had a letter of her own from Haldyn, one in which her brother had wanted to know if it was true and if she was all right and how Ancalime was... and then telling Liriel to take care of their sister and enjoy being queen, she deserved to be happy. Unexpected, but Liriel knew her brother was as idealistic as she was. Support from him was worth having, and she made a mental note to maybe invite him up to the Reach. Ancalime would be pleased to see him, and she had a feeling he'd like Madanach. 

“Shame about the disappearance and all,” Eola purred. “Any word on what happened to her?”

“None,” Keirine said, smirking. “She returned to the Embassy from Cwm Prendwemyn, filed that report and then two weeks later, she just vanished.”

“We've sent the necessary sympathies to the Embassy, expressing our sincere hope they find her soon,” Nepos added cheerfully.

“My thanks,” Eola said, grinning back, and Madanach could only feel a certain sense of relief that what with being on a leave of absence and all at the time, none of this was presently his problem. Of course, reinstatement would make it his problem but without proof, what could anyone do?

“So, the decision,” Liriel said hopefully. “What do we do?”

“Keirine, you've known him longer than any of us, what do you think?” Eola asked. 

Keirine tilted her head, illusion glimmering – why she had them on now when everyone present knew what she really looked like was a mystery to Madanach, but maybe his sister was just feeling vain.

“Personally, I think my brother's half-crazy, but that's been the case for years and so far he's always remained functional,” Keirine mused. “It's also a key cornerstone of the recovery programme that the patient should be reintegrated back into society, find some meaningful employment, gain a sense of self-worth that negates the desire to turn back to Skooma. I know my brother, Eola. I know that if you leave him to his own devices, he'll find something to occupy himself with. If we don't give him something to do, he'll find it, and I'm very sure we won't like what he finds. So. I vote in favour. Reinstate him as king, at least that way we'll know what he's likely to be up to.”

“Thank you. I think,” Madanach said dryly. Eola grinned and turned to her right.

“Uraccen?” Eola asked. The older man just shrugged.

“Seeing as Uaile's fine, Madanach's clean and the kingdom hasn't completely fallen apart, I suppose I can agree to him having the torc back,” Uraccen sighed. “Try to stay sober this time, hmm?”

Madanach grinned and promised he would. He knew Uraccen of old – if he hated a man, he didn't waste time on sarcasm. Next up, Nepos.

“I'm of a mind with Keirine on this one,” Nepos said, idly examining his fingernails. “We cut you loose, the old gods know what you'll get up to. Next thing we know, half of High Rock will be up in armed revolution, or you'll be presiding over Hammerfell or something. No, best for all of us if you're where we can see you.”

“You know, I'm starting to feel a little insulted...” Madanach said, glowering at Nepos. His steward just shrugged.

“I've said far worse to your face before now, and yet here I still sit, unharmed. You are getting your torc back, are you not?”

“I don't know, my treacherous daughter hasn't decided yet.” Madanach sat back, arms folded and staring Eola down. “Well? Are you in favour too or are you vetoing? You have to know Liriel's in favour.”

“Are you?” Eola asked, turning to Liriel, and while Madanach felt a little insulted, he could nevertheless respect someone who didn't just take his word for it.

“Of course,” Liriel said, smiling. “Honestly, I'm not sure I actually want to run the Reach. Someone who actually enjoys it is a far better option as king.”

“You got that right,” Eola said, returning the smile and turning back to Madanach. “All right. By my right as Queen Regent, I declare this Council dissolved and the Mournful Throne restored to Madanach ap Caradach.” She removed the red-gold Torc of Red Eagle from around her neck and placed it on the table, before pushing it over to Liriel. “Dragonborn, do the honours.”

Liriel picked the torc up and as Madanach lowered his head, placed it back around his neck, patting the eagle's heads into place before using it to pull him closer and before everyone present, kissed the newly restored Reach-King for all she was worth.

“A thing for powerful men. Knew it,” Madanach murmured as he slid his own arms around her and returned the kiss. Liriel blushed and nestled in his arms as the kiss broke off, but Madanach could sense the arousal in her. Back to their bedroom as soon as possible, but first, an announcement to make.

“Thank you, daughter. I accept the post and responsibility. But not forever.”

“Not – what do you mean?” Eola asked, confused. “I thought you wanted the torc back?”

“I do, but like I said, not forever. These past few weeks have helped me refocus, remember why I did all of this, why I led the Forsworn in the first place. To correct injustices, yes, but because the Nords destroyed Reachfolk families, including mine. I've got no intention of having a new family torn apart. I want to live to raise my children, Eola.”

“You're going to live another decade to see Sissel and Lucia grown, I'm quite sure,” Nepos pointed out. “And Ancalime isn't actually your child, you know that, right?”

“I know,” said Madanach, squeezing Liriel's hand and feeling the answering squeeze of assent back. “But even so, I can't be King forever. So I'm accepting it back for twenty-five years... and then I'm abdicating. Daughter, you'd better get working on the grandchildren, you'll want adult heirs when you take over properly.”

“I – right,” Eola said faintly. “But why? You'll be an old man by then, you might not even live that long!”

“I'll live that long,” Madanach said quietly, working up his courage as he took Liriel's hand in both of his. “Start planning for a Reach-King that isn't dying of natural causes. A year or so from now, I'll be taking the blood. Serana's agreed to turn me into a vampire.”

As one, the erstwhile council exploded.

“Are you out of your mind?” Uraccen demanded. Nepos seemed of like mind, but was generally not nearly so blunt. 

“Madanach, why on earth are you doing that? Liriel, tell me he's definitely not gone back on the Skooma?”

“He's fine,” Liriel said, smiling. “We talked about it, it's what we both want.”

“You're doing it for Liriel,” Eola said, comprehension dawning. “You don't want to die and leave her alone. Da, that's so sweet. But why now? You always said no before! You wanted to see Kaie and the others in the afterlife.”

“I know,” Madanach said quietly, hanging his head and trying to fight the pain that always accompanied the mention of Kaie's name. “I miss your sisters, I always will... but they're in the Void and they don't need their father there.” A pause and a look exchanged with Liriel. After they revealed this one, things would never be the same... but Madanach at least was prepared to take what came, and Liriel was of like mind, he knew that. Every healer visit made her glow, as did the little moments when they were alone and she'd run a hand over her stomach and squeal. Liriel wanted this and so did he.

Keirine, quiet so far, had raised her hand, casting a spell... and then her hand fell to her side as even a Hagraven could still be surprised.

“By Sithis, Madanach. I don't believe it. You really don't need Stallion's Draught, do you?”

“Stallion's Draught – what's that got to – no!” Eola had never been a fool, and she saw the soppy looks Madanach and Liriel were exchanging and realised just why Madanach might suddenly want to live beyond his years. “You're not kidding!”

“My dead children do not need me, and the Dragonborn of legend certainly doesn't need anyone,” Madanach said, stroking Liriel's face and idly wondering what their child would look like – Altmer obviously but would any Breton influence show through? He hoped so. “But my pregnant wife does, and my child yet unborn certainly will. How can I leave Liriel to raise our baby without me?”

“You got the Dragonborn pregnant,” Uraccen said in wonder. “Good gods, Madanach, this child's either going to save the world or destroy it.”

“I'm barely three months gone!” Liriel protested. “Give it some slack. Our baby could be the next Emperor or a humble market trader and I'll still love it anyway.”

“I'm hoping considerably better than a market trader for the next ap Madanach,” Madanach laughed. “But yes, Liriel and I are expecting. I daresay we'll have to make the announcement soon.”

“Yes, I suppose we will,” Nepos said thoughtfully. “You'll have to let me know when it's due – Uraccen, do you think our informant on Altmer culture will know anything about babies or pregnancy?”

“I'll ask, but I very much doubt it,” Uraccen laughed. “Congratulation, Madanach, and you, Liriel. Anything you need, you just ask.”

“Likewise,” Keirine said, grinning. “I have delivered a great many babies in my time, never lost a mother yet. I'll be there for the delivery, don't you worry.”

“Thank you,” Liriel whispered, clearly not having thought of death in childbirth before. She looked and felt worried, and Madanach sent back a wave of love and protection for her.

“Don't worry,” he whispered. “Forsworn women hardly ever die giving birth, we won't let it happen to our queen.”

“I'm gonna have a baby sibling!” Eola gasped, clearly still stunned by the news... but pleased. “Oh that's adorable! Any idea of names yet?”

“I hadn't thought about it,” Liriel whispered, everything having suddenly become very real all of a sudden. “I... do we want an Elven name or a Reach name? What if we can't decide on one?”

“We'll think of something,” Madanach reassured her. “How about I pick the name if it's a boy, you do it if it's a girl, and yes you can have something Elven if you want. Just be aware my vote's for Caradach – look, it was my father's name, the man singlehandedly visited every tribe in the Reach and copied all their folktales and language down, we owe nearly all our joint cultural heritage to him! Do you honestly think I'd have ever united the Reachfolk if I'd not had my father's works to help me?”

“Caradach ap Madanach. Poor child,” Uraccen sighed, a bit rich coming from someone called Uraccen ap Uailon who'd named his own daughter after his deceased father. 

“Don't worry, with any luck it'll be yet another girl and the child will end up called Eluviel or something equally ridiculous,” Keirine grinned, prompting an outraged cry from Liriel.

“Eluviel? That's not a name, that means blue girl, or possibly daughter of everything, it doesn't even make sense, no one's called that!” Liriel protested.

“I like it,” Madanach volunteered, smirking, prompting a smack in the side from Liriel.

“No, you are not picking an Elven name, I will draw up a shortlist of Elven girls' names and you can offer an opinion on those,” Liriel snapped. “No child is putting up with what I got given and changing their name when they come of age.”

“You weren't always Liriel?” Eola said, surprised. “But you seem like a Liriel, I can't imagine you as anything else.”

“Valiriel originally,” Liriel sighed. “Means 'she who sings of the gods'. I changed it when I came of age to just Liriel – she who sings. Daddy always called me Liri-bella anyway, said it rolled off the tongue easier than Valiri-bella... excuse me, I've got something in my eye...”

“All right, Council dismissed, I'll recall court tomorrow, Nepos can deal with anything that arises today – right now I have a Reach-Queen to take care of, come on cariad, let's get you out of here.” Madanach was getting to his feet and escorting Liriel out, somehow contriving to be a shoulder to cry on despite being shorter than her.

“Typical, first day back and first thing he does is swan off leaving me in charge,” Nepos sighed. “On the other hand, looks like you at least can finally have some time off, Eola.”

“About bloody time, thought I'd never get to go on my honeymoon,” Eola sighed, stretching her legs and arms – or at least she was until Cicero pounced from out of the shadows and squirmed into her lap, cooing.

“Cicero has his lovely wife back!” Cicero squealed. “Cicero was getting lonely! Cicero has missed you, my sweetling! It is not nearly so much fun creeping out to stab people on his own – not that Cicero has done any such thing anywhere any of you might have to worry about it.”

“Good, keep it that way,” Uraccen said brusquely as he took his leave. “I have enough on my plate persuading the tribesfolk not everyone in our lands needs killing, you don't need to add to it.”

“Were you listening to the whole thing?” Eola asked. Cicero blushed and giggled, the answer clearly yes to this one. 

“Cicero heard, he did! The sweet Listener is going to bring a life into the world instead of out of it for once! Cicero is... very surprised. But pleased! Very pleased! And Madanach will be a terrifying vampire lord – you know he did look very good in that armour, my love...”

“Somebody needs to stop listening in on secret councils to which they were definitely not invited, sweetie,” Eola said, trying to sound stern. “You're just lucky Da didn't see you. As it is, at least none of us are in charge any more.”

“We saw nothing,” Nepos said cheerfully, making his way out.

“He blabs, he's your problem,” Keirine added, following Nepos out of the room, leaving Eola and Cicero alone in the private court room Madanach used for more sensitive hearings.

“You are a very naughty boy,” Eola scolded him. “Good thing we're going on honeymoon at last. I think you need to be out of the Reach for a bit. Get you some exercise and some proper feeding.”

Cicero's mouth curved into a vicious grin on hearing this. “Cicero is going to kill some Morag Tong?”

“Cicero surely is,” Eola whispered, pulling him down for his lips to meet hers. With her father sorted out, she could finally, finally attend to her husband. Time she went hunting again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

A month after Madanach's reinstatement, and the Reach received its first proper state visit from High Queen Elisif and King Argis.

“How do I look?” Madanach murmured to Liriel.

“Fine, now stop fussing,” Liriel hissed back for what felt like the fifth time that morning. “Look, the carriage is arriving, look kingly.”

“Still not used to this,” Madanach muttered, flicking the torc nervously. But he straightened up and prepared to look like a leader. The Reach hadn't really had a proper state visit since its liberation and the protocol was still a bit vague, but Madanach had ReachGuard on all roofs and clifftops, anywhere potential assassins might be lurking, although Liriel assured him there were no contracts on the High Queen or her husband.

Argis was first to disembark, before immediately turning to help Elisif down, then taking Lirela off Sybille Stentor and passing her back to her mother and helping the Solitude court mage down. Bolgeir managed without needing help from the King Consort. Then Elisif was making her way over, still cradling Lirela in her arms. Ten months old now, and the future High Queen was sitting up in her mother's arms, looking about at everyone, blue eyes wide and red hair long enough now to be blown in the breeze. 

“Yes, they're ReachGuards, sweetie. No they don't look like our guards, that's because they use magic to protect themselves as well so don't need as much armour as ours,” Elisif was explaining in response to Lirela babbling at her. “And that's Markarth, it's an old Dwemer city which is why it doesn't look like Solitude does and is all made of stone. And that... who's that, sweetie, hmm? You know them, don't you? Yes you do!”

Elisif was now at the foot of the steps, holding Lirela up and pointing at Madanach and Liriel. At this point, Liriel's maternal instincts won out and she was making her way down the steps, arms outstretched to take Lirela off her mother.

“Hello! You remember me, don't you? That's right, it's Liriel!”

“Li-lil!” Lirela squealed, clearly remembering gold skin and pointy ears if nothing else, because she went straight into Liriel's arms and began tweaking the ears, babbling nonsense at Liriel but looking very intent about it, clearly expecting a response, probably along the lines of why her ears were so odd compared to everyone else's.

“She missed you,” Elisif said, grinning. “For the last two months, she's been looking around going 'Li-lil?' and looking very confused. I think she thinks we keep you under a bed somewhere.”

“I need to visit more often, don't I?” Liriel said guiltily. “That's right, treasure, I need to come see you in Solitude, don't I? By Kynareth, look at you, you're huge now! How are you nearly talking, hmm?”

“They grow up so fast,” Elisif said knowingly. A deep breath and then she looked up, meeting Liriel's eyes. “We heard about your news too! Congratulations, I'm so happy for you! When's it due?”

“About eight months or so, we think,” Liriel admitted. “Altmer pregnancies last longer but with a half-blood, no one's really sure. All the Altmer literature is from Alinor, all insisting it never happens, but I know that's not true. I told Mother, she's torn between wanting grandchildren and being appalled, but Cali's not stopped bouncing since we told her.”

“I can imagine,” Elisif said, before turning to Madanach, just recovering from being congratulated by his son. “Hello, Madanach.”

“High Queen,” Madanach replied awkwardly. Elisif hadn't really said why she wanted a visit, and most of the communications had been between their stewards, but Madanach imagined it wasn't just so Liriel and Elisif could talk babies. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

Elisif made her way up the steps until she was standing before him, Liriel following with Lirela in her arms, whispering to her about elves being different from humans and having different ears.

“I thought I should see how you were doing, now you're back from your, er, holiday,” Elisif said nervously. “And... er... oh Aedra, I brought some guests along. Your steward knows about them, well, sort of. Er, this is Danica Pure-Spring from the Temple of Kynareth, Colette Marence from the College of Winterhold, and Maramal from the Temple of Mara in Riften.”

Two priests and a mage. Interesting. Madanach recalled the Temple of Kynareth being the most noted centre of healing in Skyrim, and the Temple of Mara known for its mission of compassion and mercy to those less fortunate. And Colette Marence, wasn't she the notoriously prickly Restoration mistress at Winterhold? An odd combination but there was a link here, he could tell.

“Welcome to the Reach,” Madanach said, inclining his head. “Was it the magical research programme you were interested in or the Slan Gwasanaeth?”

“The latter... sort of,” Elisif said hesitantly. “We're here about the Skooma programme.”

“The... what?” Madanach scratched his head, confused. “Why would you want to know about that? You're not an addict.”

“No, I'm Queen!” Elisif sighed. “Madanach, Skyrim's got plenty of Skooma addicts and we can't send them all to the Reach for treatment. We want to know how you do it. We want to know how it works, how well it works, talk to some recovering addicts and some of the healers. Danica's interested in seeing how your Health Service operates, Maramal wants to know how you could help some of Riften's victims when the Temple of Mara never managed, and Colette thinks her colleagues will take Restoration magic a bit more seriously once she's written a few papers on its use to treat addiction. And... I confess, I'm curious to know what's involved. Argis told me a bit about it and got me some of the publicity material, but it's not the same as seeing it in action.”

“You want to know if it really works so you can decide if I'm worthy of being in polite society again, aren't you?” Madanach said, drawing his own conclusions and smirking as he saw his daughter-in-law blush. However, she recovered quickly.

“Oh, have no fear there, I already know you're not,” Elisif shot back. “But that's been the case for as long as I've known you. Doesn't mean you're all bad, or that you don't take care of your own.” She smiled hopefully, and even a hardened warlord like Madanach couldn't help but be a little affected by it.

“I can certainly manage that,” Madanach agreed. “All right, you can meet with the programme director tomorrow, have a look around, talk to people. You can't view private medical records or go to the support groups unless the group agrees, and if you want to talk to patients, be aware they have the right to terminate the conversation at any time, and their healer will be present unless the patient wishes otherwise.”

“I would never push anyone into sharing anything they didn't want to,” Elisif said gently. “Thank you, Madanach, this could benefit more people than you could ever realise. Here. Liriel, may I...?”

“Oh, of course!” Liriel said, just about managing to tear her attention away from Lirela long enough to hand her back to her mother. Elisif cuddled her baby, kissed her gently and then held her out to Madanach.

“She missed you,” Elisif explained on seeing Madanach's stunned face. “You're the only grandparent she's got, and I felt bad you didn't get to see as much of her as you could have last time. So here she is. That's right, Lirela, that's your granda, isn't it?”

Lirela had squealed, holding her hands out to Madanach, who took her without a word, holding her close while she babbled at him.

“You don't mind?” Madanach asked, amazed at the change of heart. Elisif shook her head, smiling as Argis rejoined her, arm around her shoulders. 

“We had a talk,” said Argis gruffly. “I told her you'd been struggling for years and managed to stay clean since you got out, and Lirela had never come to any harm yet. Didn't think it was right you being kept away from her without good cause.”

“And he's right,” Elisif said, voice gentle and quiet. “So we decided it was high time we visited to see just how exactly you're managing to keep your people sober when the rest of us have been trying for years without any luck.”

 _It doesn't always work._ But the defining characteristic of the programme was a gentle refusal to give anyone up as a lost cause, and if you fell off the wagon, your fellow group members would help you get back on it again. He'd seen that for himself.

But now was not the time to worry about any of that, not today. Lirela was babbling on, frowning and no doubt wanting to know why he wasn't talking to her, and he knew enough about babies to know that at that age, it wasn't so much the words as simply that you spoke to them. Cradling his granddaughter in his arms and pretending to marvel at a fictitious tale of dragons and heroism she was spinning him, Madanach headed back into his city. He had his family back and it was due to get bigger. Everything was going to be fine.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

_Eight months later_

Screaming. Screaming from inside the Royal Bedchamber, and outside by the throne room, things weren't much better.

“Gods, why did I do this?” Madanach gasped. “I'd forgotten it was this horrific – gnnnfph!” A shot of jenever later and Madanach collapsed on the stone table, wishing it was Skooma. Yes, Skooma would be just the thing, it nullified the marriage bond, meaning he wouldn't be able to feel his wife screaming in agony and cursing his name every five minutes.

“Breathe, boss,” Borkul murmured, rubbing his back. “It's OK, you can get through this, you've done it before.”

“I was thirty years younger then!” Madanach said through gritted teeth, nails digging into stone but it didn't help, none of it helped, not even painkillers helped. It wasn't his pain that was ripping him apart.

“Reach-King, Reach-King, dearest blood brother, Cicero has hot water and warm towels!” Cicero trilled as he scampered out from the kitchens.

“You are aware I'm not actually giving birth, aren't you – oh, that's actually rather nice.” A warm towel across the forehead had a surprisingly soothing effect, which made a definite change from Liriel's mind in his head howling venom at him for doing this to her.

This had been going on for hours, and he'd been with her at first, even lowered her into the pool in the hope it would help but it hadn't done, not really, and then the pains had got worse and he was exhausted... and so was she and that worried him. She was young, strong, Dragonborn, she should be giving birth by now, surely? Keirine had said all was well, she was fully dilated, so where was the baby?

Madanach didn't want to think about it, if he was honest. Keirine, Sabrinda and Eola between them had this in hand, right? Right?

Then Eola ran out of the room, blood staining the front of that healer's robe she'd changed into, snapping at Cicero to get over there and taking that odd stamina booster ring off him before dashing back in, and Cicero had come back pale and shaking all over, and Madanach's fear had turned to terror... and he couldn't feel Liriel any more.

“Something's wrong,” he whispered. “I need to get in there, need to help, _something's wrong!_ ”

He tried to get up and promptly collapsed, his body long ago having given up any attempt at pretending it was anything other than that of a sixty-one year old man who'd been up for over sixteen hours. Fortunately Borkul caught him and then he and Nepos were hauling Madanach back onto his chair.

“Madanach, you are in no state to do anything and there's nothing you could do even if you were,” Nepos said firmly. “Now sit down – Keirine has done this a hundred times.”

“Liriel hasn't,” Madanach whispered, trying to reach out to her but he couldn't feel her, why couldn't he feel her??

“Reach-King. Madanach. Brother, Cicero is scared,” Cicero whispered, clearly still well and truly linked to Eola and no, no, this wasn't happening, Eola was never scared, Eola feared nothing. 

Madanach pulled Cicero into his arms and clung on to the terrified jester, wanting to feel someone there, someone with their arms around him, and Cicero was all he had. Neither Nepos or Borkul did cuddling, but Cicero now, Cicero would drape himself over anyone.

Cicero was huddled next to him now, wide-eyed and frightened, and Madanach could do nothing.

“She's going to be all right,” Madanach said firmly. “She has to be, doesn't she know I need her?”

“What if Mother wants her more?” Cicero whispered. “What if she is angry with the Listener? What then?”

“It won't happen,” Madanach said firmly. “It won't!”

But he couldn't feel her, and that scared him more than anything. Not dead... but where was she?

The door to the bedroom flung open and footsteps strode out. Not Eola. Not Keirine either, and then every other thought flew out of his head as he heard what they'd all been waiting for. The sound of a baby crying.

“Liriel,” Madanach whispered and Cicero had got up, fleeing towards the birthing chamber, darting right past the figure who'd emerged, all thoughts on his Listener.

“Hey!” Sabrinda cried. “Matriarch Keirine said no one allowed in there – oh for Auriel's sake, fine, risk the wrath of the most dangerous Hagraven in the country, see if I care.”

Madanach was quite inclined to let Cicero get on with it. All his attention was on the crying, fussing bundle in Sabrinda's arms. Thalmor robes long gone, the ex-Justiciar turned Knight-Paladin was wearing a simple orange priest robe and cradling in her arms her latest grandchild – not her first but the first she'd actually met.

“Is that...?” he whispered. Sabrinda tore her eyes away from the infant long enough to meet his, and for once, she actually looked pleased to see him.

“Yes,” she said softly. “Yes, it is. I've got a grandson, Madanach!”

Somehow Madanach found the energy to stagger over, holding out his arms as Sabrinda carefully handed the baby over – his son. His newborn son, and as Madanach pulled the blankets back, he could feel tears in his eyes. He was absolutely beautiful, golden skin and red hair like Liriel's but rounder features, much like a human's and possibly he'd look a bit more Elven later but right now, he didn't look much different from a human baby... apart from the ears. He had the ears. Sithis be praised, he had the ears. 

“He's gorgeous,” Madanach breathed. “Gods, look at him, Nepos, Borkul, get over here, I've got a son!”

There followed several minutes of breathless cooing as the King of the Forsworn, the spymaster of the Forsworn, an Orc who'd killed more people than most people had ever met and a former Thalmor who had been most zealous indeed in hunting down Talos-worshippers all collectively lost it over a tiny baby.

“Hey, boss, looks like he's gonna have human eyes. They're not slanted, look.”

“They don't slant later?”

“No, Madanach, of course not, skull bones don't alter that much! He's got a human face,” Sabrinda sighed. “Well, can't have everything. What?”

“I quite agree, Knight-Paladin, slanted eyes would have been nice, but I'm sure he'll have a lovely personality.”

“... Nepos, did you just imply my son is ugly?”

“What, me? Never, Madanach.”

“Oh, this is gonna be good...”

“Aetherius's sake, what is it with you. Is it a human thing or a man thing, I honestly can't decide...”

“All right, that's it, if you two don't stop disparaging my son, I'm having the pair of you executed.”

“How dare you, I am a Knight-Paladin of Auriel!”

“Oh don't worry, Sabrinda, he's always like this when he's tired. Come on, let's leave the new father to it. He has a baby to dote on, that'll sort him out.”

“I will never understand what Liriel sees in him...”

“Nor do we, my dear, nor do we...”

“My mother-in-law and my steward are ganging up on me, should I be worried?” Madanach asked, glancing up at Borkul. The Orc shook his head, grinning.

“Nah. She'll say something tactless about humans at some point, annoy Nepos but he'll be too diplomatic to say anything and just start managing her instead, which will save you having to do it. I wouldn't worry, boss. Worry about your wife and this little one and let the rest look after itself.”

His wife... Liriel. Madanach reached for her in a panic... and felt her respond. Tired, shattered, sore and weak but there, conscious and there, and Madanach practically sprinted for the bedroom, his baby son who would be named Caradach eventually but not just yet, nestled in his arms, having calmed right down once his father had taken hold of him.

Liriel was propped up in bed, pale and exhausted but breathing. Eola was sitting next to her on the bed, Cicero kneeling by it, both gently stroking her forehead and hand respectively and cooing over her.

“You're gonna be OK, Mama Liriel,” Eola was saying. “You did it, sweetie, you did it, I'm so proud of you.”

“It hurt,” Liriel whispered tearfully. “It hurt so much.”

“I know, cariad, I know,” Eola said softly, kissing her forehead. 

“Listener is all right,” Cicero was cooing. “Cicero was worried! But Listener lives and Listener can still listen.”

“I don't think I can move,” Liriel whispered.

“No Listening for you just yet,” Eola scolded. “Nine days of rest, Forsworn style, and then we can think about you getting up and moving about, and then you can start Listening again, hmm?”

“Cicero has set up the Night Mother in the Keep especially!” Cicero cooed, apparently not seeming to quite realise Liriel had just had what sounded like a difficult birth, to put it mildly.

“All right, that is enough,” Keirine said, bundling up bloodstained bed linen and towels for later disposal. “Eola, nieceling, time for you to go to bed, and take your man with you. And thank you. You were invaluable, not sure what I'd have done without you.”

“You would have managed,” Eola said, grinning. “All right, Cicero, we're leaving the new parents to it. Night, Da. Night, Liriel.”

Eola chivvied a squealing Cicero out of the door and Liriel visibly collapsed as soon as they'd gone.

“Thank Sithis that's over with,” Liriel whispered. “Madanach, we are never having another. How in the world does anyone have more than one child?? Humans especially, Mother had a century to get over one before having the next!”

“I couldn't tell you,” Madanach said, smiling as he approached the bed. “Keirine, we're all done, you're clearing the afterbirth out, yes?”

The merest flinch from Keirine, but then she smiled.

“Yes, yes, consider it disposed of. Right, I'm off. Liriel, do not hesitate to call me if you need anything.”

“I will. Thank you,” Liriel said, eyes fluttering closed. Madanach edged closer, perching on the bed, their baby in his arms.

“Are you all right?” he said hesitantly. “It was a difficult one, wasn't it. What happened? I couldn't feel you at all at one point...”

“Might have been the pain potion,” Liriel said, eyes still closed. “It just dampened down everything, I wasn't even sure where I was. Couldn't feel anything, which is good because that's when Keirine sliced me open and hauled the baby out. I think I fainted at that point, Mother wasn't looking too good either.”

Nor was Madanach on hearing that – he knew Hags could do that, it had saved the life of many a struggling mother and her child before now... would have saved his own mother in fact. But it was a different matter entirely to know it had happened to his wife.

“Are you really all right,” he whispered, feeling chilled inside. He had the horrible feeling he'd nearly lost her. Liriel just nodded sleepily.

“Yes, cariad, I'm fine, just tired. Eola had a brainwave and she sorted me out. I'm fine now, just really tired.”

Caradach stirred in his father's arms, starting to fuss and wail, and Liriel's eyes flickered open.

“Oh! The baby! You've got it!”

“Of course I have, I just met my son, you think I'm leaving him lying around? No, don't say the name yet, bad luck until the naming day, but yes, he's here. Look, mabion, it's your mother. She's pretty, isn't she? Yes she is, you're the son of the most beautiful woman in Tamriel, you lucky boy.”

Liriel gasped, almost sobbing as she reached out for her son, taking him in her arms and staring at him and Madanach could cry with happiness as he saw Liriel's face light up in astonishment and delight.

“Oh my goodness,” Liriel breathed, staring down at her son. “Oh my goodness, he's adorable, look at his face! Madanach, his hands, look at his hands, they're so tiny!”

“I know!” Madanach laughed, coming to lie alongside her, arms around her as he kissed her shoulder. “He's beautiful, isn't he? He's got your skin and hair and ears, but Borkul reckons he's got a human face.”

“I don't care,” Liriel whispered, staring hungrily at him. “He's gorgeous, look at him, and he's so small and tiny and oh gods, what if something happens to him?”

“Nothing will,” Madanach murmured. “I swear it.”

“But didn't you say that to Mireen after your two oldest were born?” Liriel said, slightly sharply for his liking.

“No,” said Madanach tersely. “Because Mireen didn't give a flying fuck about either of them once she found out they were girls.” Liriel looked a bit hurt and Madanach softened immediately, snuggling in to her. “But you don't care about that, do you? You love him anyway.”

Liriel nodded, eyes not leaving Caradach and then the tears started to fall as she held her baby tight, and Madanach pulled his wife and child into his arms. He had a son – _they_ had a son. He was a father again for the, what, eighth time now? Nine if you counted Cali.

Madanach stared down at Caradach, so fragile and helpless in Liriel's arms, and then Liriel, exhausted but still strong. He loved them both more than anything, save only his other children.

_For you, I will give up the sunlight, give up my humanity. For you, I'd do anything._

Nestling down alongside Liriel, Madanach closed his eyes. He had a wife who loved him and who also loved the son they'd had together. This time, they'd raise him together, and this time, perhaps things might go according to plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cute, wasn't it? It gets cuter - well. Sort of. Next chapter is the last one, and it goes out in style as Madanach takes the blood and then there's the round-up of the Happily Ever After bit.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caradach's reached his first birthday and the Reach Court are celebrating - but his father's also another year older and he's starting to feel it. With Madanach's mortality getting increasingly more obvious, it's time to take steps to halt the process.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LAST CHAPTER EVERYONE. I'm feeling a little emotional, but this was a lot of fun to write and a high to go out on. There's essentially two halves to this one, the first being the turning of Madanach, and then the rest is a sort of epilogue that basically tells the rest of the story and what happens to them all. The final scene's actually set a good six hundred years after the Dragon Year.
> 
> Machara means my friend

_One year later_

“Tired?”

“Yes. Very. I have had to wrangle one twelve year old, one ten year old, your sister, your mother, my sister, my daughter and Cicero. Nepos has been no help whatsoever. You have been not as helpful as you could have been, if I'm honest.”

“What, me?” Liriel said, brow furrowing. “I was tending to our son!”

“Yes, you got the fun bits,” Madanach glowered. “You got to sit around and dote on the little one and be praised by all and sundry on what a lovely baby you have, while I got to spend the day supervising four pain in the backside children.”

“Four?”

“I was including Cicero.”

Liriel swatted him playfully. They were making their way back to their quarters in the Keep, Caradach having been handed back to his nanny and the older children by now banished to their bedrooms – Lucia now deemed old enough to have her own while Sissel and Cali still shared one. Eola had steered Cicero off somewhere and neither Liriel nor Madanach were inclined to think any further on what they might be getting up to. Today had been Reach-Prince Caradach's first birthday, and while his parents had kept it low-key, they'd also wanted to fuss over their boy. So a trip out for a family picnic at Karthspire it had been, and all had thoroughly enjoyed themselves, despite Madanach's complaints.

“You told them a couple of stories then packed them all off to play on their own and Eola and Jordis ended up doing most of the supervising,” Liriel reminded him. “You spent most of the day enjoying the sunshine and fussing over Caradach more than I was.”

Caradach ap Madanach, one year old and while well behind what a human baby would be expected to be doing, was quite advanced by Altmer standards, according to Sabrinda anyway. She and Madanach were never likely to ever get on that well, but she was making an effort with everyone else, particularly Sissel and Lucia, and had proven invaluable over the past year. Liriel hadn't realised just quite how hard parenting a baby was, even with servants to help and a husband who was quite ruthless in firmly taking the responsibility off Liriel when she was tired, either taking over himself or finding someone else to. Liriel had never been more glad to have him, but she wasn't blind either. Madanach was sixty two now, sixty three this summer, and he was starting to show his age. Using Restoration magic more often to stave off the pains of old age, not playing with the children as often because it just wore him out in a way it never had the first time round. Getting ill more often with seriously nasty chest infections, a legacy of inhaling rock dust for twenty years, and that worried Liriel the most. Her husband was ageing, mortal, and while he could in theory live into his eighties or nineties, he'd only get frailer. She'd already seen him say no to weapons training the kids, saying Cicero was much better at it than he was, he should do it, and he'd later admitted he just couldn't hold a war axe like he used to.

Liriel knew Madanach had carved Thongvor's head off without even flinching when they'd taken the city nearly four years ago. He'd still been a capable warrior then and he was still a very capable mage and ruler now... but for how much longer? He already needed Dwemer lenses in frames over his eyes to read properly, another legacy of trying to run a rebellion from a cave for twenty years.

No, they needed to do this now, before Madanach's body gave in completely.

“Serana will be waiting for us,” Liriel said quietly. “Are you sure about this?”

A stop, pause and then a squeeze of her hand.

“I don't entirely know... but I promised you, didn't I?” Madanach said, bittersweet smile on his face. “I held my son as a living man, I spent today in the sunlight. I've said my goodbyes. We should get it over with.”

“You don't have to do this,” Liriel whispered, and Madanach did turn to her then, cupping her face in his hands.

“Yes I do,” he growled. “I'm getting older, Liriel, I'm getting ill more, I can't swing an axe properly, if we'd taken Markarth today, I'd have had to get Borkul or Argis to execute Thongvor to avoid looking like a laughing stock. I can't even read without my lenses. I don't know if the blood will help with any of it, but at least it won't get any worse. Liriel, I could in theory live another twenty years but I can't guarantee I'll actually last more than five and I don't know what state I'll be in. I can't be the husband you deserve and the father Caradach needs if I don't do this.”

“You've always been good enough for me, cariad,” Liriel whispered, wishing he wouldn't say things like that. Not many people knew about the Reach-King's hidden insecurities, how he had never really forgiven himself for not being able to save his father and sister from the Silver-Bloods, for having killed his mother being born, for getting arrested, for not being able to protect his children, for not doing more despite already having done so much. But Liriel knew it all, saw it all. She knew he wasn't as all-powerful as he made out.

Time to change that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Serana was waiting for them in their room, sitting quietly by the fire. Vampires didn't breathe, didn't even move unless they wanted to. It had always unnerved Liriel a little and not much unnerved a Dragonborn. 

Liriel secretly rather enjoyed being unnerved. It was what she liked about Madanach, that despite a child, despite everything, he still could have that effect on her. He wasn't always the sexually dominant one by any means, but when he was... Liriel shivered just to think about it. 

“Are you ready?” Serana asked in that soft voice of hers. “Once I do this, there's no going back.”

Which wasn't strictly true, Liriel knew this mage in Morthal who was said to be able to reverse the change, but for Madanach there wouldn't be. Who knew how many years of life he had left in him – Liriel had a horrible feeling the number wasn't as large as she'd hoped for. For all she knew it was single digits. This or true death for her husband.

Madanach unfastened the robes she'd won for him, shaking them off and letting them lie on the table, leaving the gloves there too and only pausing to remove the boots before stretching out on the bed, torc and circlet on the cabinet and without them, just an old battlemage lying topless on a fancy bed.

“I'm ready. Liriel?”

Liriel came to join him, lying at his back, arms around him. He'd suffered through her labour pains, she wouldn't let him do this alone.

“I'm here,” Liriel whispered.

Serana joined them, orange eyes glowing faintly in the shadows as she sat on the edge of the bed.

“Are you OK with this, Liriel? It's... kinda intimate.”

“So you keep saying, which is why I want it to be you,” Liriel said with a smile.

“Do you need me to do anything?” Madanach asked, tilting his head to expose his neck. “Or do I just lie back and let you get on with it?”

“I don't need you to do anything,” Serana said quietly, leaning forward and taking Madanach in her arms in what was almost a lover's embrace. “Just lie back and trust me.”

“I can do that,” Madanach murmured, closing his eyes and wrapping his arms around Serana, and when her teeth pierced his neck, the world went red and he knew no more.

~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

“Da. Da, open your eyes. Open your damn eyes!”

Madanach opened them, wondering when it had got so cold in here... and then he realised he wasn't in his room. It was dark, misty, strange hills in the distance with weird grey light like some twisted dawn rising from behind them... but the sky was a night sky, with stars he didn't recognise. 

Before him was a Forsworn camp, with the stockading and goat's heads and windbreaks and tents, Reachmen and women peering out through the mists at him... but he was outside it and he somehow knew he wasn't allowed in. Mainly because of the three women in Forsworn gear standing outside and blocking his way. Well, female yes, but two of them were just girls. Teenagers in fact, about fourteen or fifteen. But they flanked an adult, a twenty nine year old adult who he'd last seen on a funeral pyre.

“What have you done?” Kaie whispered, her eyes haunted. “What in the Void have you done??”

“What haven't I done?” Madanach said roughly, getting to his feet. No robes here, just Forsworn gear of his own. “Kaie... where is this.”

“You know where!” she cried and next to her, Eithne and Amaleen were looking at him as if he'd betrayed them all.

“You're in the Void, Daddy,” Eithne said, glaring at him. “We've been waiting for you, all this time! Over twenty years! We didn't think we'd have a lot longer to wait.”

“Kaie says you've taken the blood, vampire blood!” Amaleen said tearfully. “Tell me it isn't true.”

Madanach hung his head. What could he say? He'd essentially given up on them for Caradach's sake and for Liriel's, turned his back on his old family and the Dance itself for the sake of the new.

“It's true. I'm sorry, inyeenai.”

Amaleen let out a sob, Eithne looked furious and Kaie was just shaking her head.

“Da. I know you love Liriel but what were you thinking? Vampirism? Really? You always said it was better to stay human, that some prices were too high!”

“I've got a son, Kaie!” Madanach cried. “Caradach, your little brother! I don't know how long I've got, if I let nature take its course, I could be dead in a decade! Liriel will be on her own with a young child and he won't even remember me. Only that his father was some old king of some old human kingdom that won't even remember who Caradach is, never mind that he's a prince, or worse, Eola's line will remember and see him as a threat. My son needs me, Kaie!”

“What about us?” Eithne cried. “I missed you, Da! I've been waiting so long. I was lonely for so long, and then at least Ama turned up. But it was you I wanted to see. I was so worried! I thought they'd killed you but you never came here...”

“They had me in prison, surely someone told you that,” Madanach said roughly.

“I did,” Kaie said quietly. “Told them the whole story. That the Reach is free, you got to be king. Of course, I didn't know if you were all right, and we've not had a lot of dead come through of late to update us. I had to go to the Brotherhood's area and speak to a few of their kills. They told me the heir to the throne's Princess Eola. That our baby sister came good in the end and came home. Except she's seriously not married to Cicero, right?”

“Afraid so,” Madanach confessed, repressing a smile at the outrage on Kaie's face. “Is this a problem?”

“A problem??” Kaie snapped. “He's not consort material! He's not even sane!”

“He loves her,” Madanach said pointedly. “He makes her happy. And all he has to do is sire some children and raise them, which he's said he'll be happy to do and is trying to do. It's not his fault Eola's not pregnant yet. Kaie, I'm sorry, I know you had feelings too...”

“I didn't... all right, maybe I was fond of the little shit,” Kaie said, looking away. “But he wasn't... no one ever was... dammit Da, it's your fault, you know. How was I supposed to find anyone of my own with you as a father? Everyone I tried was nice enough... they just weren't you.”

“Kaie,” Madanach said quietly, fighting guilt over having failed Kaie like he'd failed all his kids – _except not true, Argis is happy, Eola's very capable, my adopted ones are all doing well, and Caradach... well, he's very easily entertained at his age._ So there was guilt... but also quiet pleasure at having managed to set the bar so high despite being a Skooma-addicted ex-felon. “Kaie, please, I'm really not a good man.”

“You keep saying that,” Kaie whispered. “I don't think it's true. And that camp doesn't care. Da, no one is going to forget you in a hurry. The casualties of Markarth told their stories, the ones who fell alongside me told the tale. And then Red Eagle himself showed up, said you'd come and finally released his soul from its binding, you and Liriel. He said you were a lucky son of a bitch and he almost had you.”

That did make Madanach laugh. “Did he really? I must apologise at some point.”

“Don't bother, he then went on to ask if it was true, if you really were king and I told him about the treaty. He wasn't entirely pleased about joining the Empire but I told him very firmly there was no alternative other than slavery and oppression, and a free Reach as part of the same Empire as everywhere else was better than rule by the Nords. He came round in the end. But that's not the point, is it? Point is, you won't be able to apologise because you're _not coming here!_ ” Kaie was staring him down, eyes narrowed and really looking very like her mother. Madanach instinctively took a step back, and Kaie saw and relented.

“Why, Daddy?” Kaie whispered. “Are we not enough?”

It was killing Madanach to say it but he shook his head. “I'm sorry. But you're dead and you don't need me, there's nothing stopping any of you coming back.”

“We were waiting for you!” Amaleen cried. “I wanted to know if Eola was OK! Last thing I saw was her peeping out from behind a rock, terrified. Did they hurt her too? Please tell me she's OK.”

“She's fine, and they didn't hurt her. She was scared but she survived. She always does. Please don't worry about her, she's as tough as anything. A bit like your mother that way, although please don't tell her I said that.”

“We won't,” Amaleen said, stepping forward, and then she was hugging him, tears in her spectral eyes. “Da, if you have to do this... then do it. But please look after Eola, she's not as tough as you think. I worry about her.”

“Then come back and take care of her in person,” Madanach said roughly. “I mean it, daughters. I can't come to you, so come to me. Rejoin the Dance. You left it too soon, come back and enjoy it to the full.”

“Doesn't look like we've got a choice,” Eithne said sternly, coming to join her sister, and Madanach hugged her too, tears in his own eyes as his daughters said goodbye. “All right, Da, I'm coming back. Ama, you as well, we'll do it together. Thought about coming back as Argis's kid, you know, but I don't think I want to be a Nord, even though Elisif seems nice enough.”

“Don't blame you,” Madanach said, clutching them both to him. “You die in a fight as one of them, you end up in Sovngarde for all eternity. No thanks.”

Eithne did laugh at that, and as she and Amaleen held on to him, he had the sense he was forgiven.

“Look for us soon,” Eithne whispered as she let him go. Amaleen did likewise, holding her sister's hand.

“We love you, Da. We'll be back incarnate before you know it. Say hi to Eola for us.” Sly grin exchanged between the two of them, then identical innocent smiles, and Madanach had the feeling they were already plotting a triumphant return.

“What about you, Kaie, you coming back with them?” Madanach asked. Slowly, Kaie shook her head.

“I don't think so, Da. Not for a long time. Maybe not ever. Don't wait for me. You want to stay in Mundus, you made your choice. Don't look back on my account.”

“She's got a boyfriend,” Eithne announced cheerfully. 

“Eithne!” Amaleen whispered and Kaie shot her sister a baleful look.

“I do not have a – look, we're just enjoying each other's company, that is all.”

“Does he know that?” Eithne said knowingly. “He keeps referring to you as his queen in waiting.”

“Only because his queen in life reincarnated centuries ago,” Kaie sighed. “Look, it's nothing but... well... he does kind of remind me of you, Da.”

Kaie had found a lover in the afterlife. Unexpected... but not unwelcome. 

“You found someone? Who? Do I know his family? Should I tell them we're in-laws?”

Kaie laughed and shrugged. “I'm not sure anyone knows for sure who his descendants are, probably half the Reach by now. But, well, they say Ma was descended from him, so we're kind of already kin...”

“She's shagging Red Eagle,” Amaleen said wearily. “Entire bloody camp can hear it. Good thing we don't actually need to sleep any more.”

“Red Eagle??” Madanach had to be sure he'd heard that correctly. “What, the Red Eagle? The one I...”

“Sent here, yes, him,” Kaie sighed. “Look, he was persistent, all right? Kept talking to me. Bringing me jenever. Asking about you, the Reach, everything that had happened since he'd died, all sorts. And then we ended up kissing, and he turned out to be really good at it and... look it's just a bit of fun, you know?”

Of course it was, gods forbid Kaie admit how she really felt. 

“He's not good enough for you,” Madanach said instinctively. Eithne and Amaleen both giggled and Kaie rolled her eyes.

“He was king, Da. What more does he need to do?”

“He lost, cariad. Twice.” However, Madanach was secretly pleased for her... and relieved. He was worried she'd be alone, but if she chose to stay because she had someone here, and Red Eagle of all people... well, at least he couldn't fault her taste. “Still, I suppose he's better than the gibbering halfwit your sister married. You two, when you incarnate, grow up and get married, heed this advice from your old da. No lunatics. Marry people who are sane, kind and caring, I don't care what else they are. But absolutely no lunatics. One madman's enough.”

“Yes, Da,” Eithne said, grinning.

“We'll be careful, Da,” Amaleen promised, and she was fading, wait, they all were, why were they fading?

“We love you, Da!” Eithne called and Amaleen nodded, and behind them, Kaie was watching, biting her lip and tears rolling down her face as she knew what her forever child sisters never would – this was it.

“Kaie,” Madanach gasped. “I'm sorry. I love you!”

“I know,” Kaie whispered... and then they were gone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

“He's not waking up,” Liriel whispered, shaking her husband's lifeless form. “Why isn't he waking up, you promised, Serana, you promised!”

“I know, but give it time, it takes a while for them to rise sometimes!” Serana said, but she looked nervous and Liriel recalled what Serana had told her – sometimes the blood was too strong and it killed them.

Madanach had collapsed in Serana's arms as she'd drained him, and then she'd slashed her wrist open and placed it to his mouth, letting him feed off her. He'd done so, collapsed and then the screaming and fitting had started.

“What's wrong, what's happening?” Liriel had cried. 

“This often happens, it's the blood turning him, just wait,” Serana had said, holding Madanach down and whispering words of comfort to him. Finally it had stopped and he'd just fallen limp in her arms. Seemingly asleep... but Liriel had felt no heartbeat, Detect Life shown no sign of life. She was holding her husband's corpse in her arms and despite Serana's reassurances he would rise, Liriel knew no such thing.

“It's been three hours,” Liriel whispered. “He should have risen by now, what's the longest time it's ever been?”

“Eight hours, that's how long it took Harkon, or so he always said,” Serana told her. “Look, Liriel, please, give it time, it's not... not always quick.”

“What do I tell my children,” Liriel whispered. “What do I tell Sissel, Cali, Lucia – Lucia adores her father! And Cali, gods Cali, I can't put her through another funeral, I can't. And – and Caradach, my son, what do I tell my son??” Her son, her beautiful half-human son, stockier than an elf-child, Madanach's silver eyes and face with gold skin and pointed ears and red hair, and going to be so strong, she just knew it. Strong and handsome and... fatherless. Her beloved Reachman, gone for good. She should never have let him do this.

“Madanach,” she sobbed into cold, unmoving skin. “Madanach, Madanach, don't leave me, I love you, please. Please...”

Someone stroking her hair, probably Serana offering comfort... but Serana was on the other side of the bed and the hand didn't feel like hers, Serana didn't have calluses there.

Slowly Liriel opened her eye and looked up and then she felt the corpse beneath her move and Madanach was staring at her, eyes open and glowing gold at her yet his chest stayed still. 

“Oh my,” Liriel whispered. Her husband had just turned into a reanimated corpse that fed on the living... and he was smiling at her.

He started to speak, but no words came out and he turned sharply to Serana.

“Remember to inhale first,” Serana said, amused. Madanach glared at her, duly inhaled, took a few minutes getting a rhythm going before finally speaking.

“It worked.”

“It worked,” Serana said, looking rather pleased with herself. “How are you feeling?”

Madanach didn't answer, just looking around in surprise.

“Fine,” he said, confused. “Absolutely fine. I don't hurt or ache anywhere, and I can see just fine.”

“That's good, right?” Liriel said faintly. Madanach turned to look at her and those hungry glowing eyes made her shiver. This had been a terrible idea. Or was it a really good one? She really wasn't sure.

“Good??” Madanach was staring at her as if she'd gone mad. “Are you joking?? I don't think I've gone a day without an ache or pain or discomfort somewhere since I got sent down. And I can see perfectly, no, better than I ever could. Gods, how bad was my eyesight before...” He turned to Serana, taking both hands in his. “Thank you. Thank you so much for this. If there is anything you need, anything at all, you just ask. You have no idea what you've just given me, none at all.”

“Been living with it a long time, Madanach,” Serana said with a smile. Madanach shook his head, still staring at her in amazement.

“Oh I don't think you do. You were never old.” He let go of her hands and hugged her, kissing her fiercely on the cheek and letting her go. “Thank you. You've done me a greater service than you'll ever know.”

“Good to hear,” Serana said gently. “Now, did you want to give the Vampire Lord form a try? You had the blood straight from a Daughter of Coldharbour, you should have one. All you need to do is tap it.”

“In a second, let me just try something...” Madanach lifted one of Red Eagle's swords off the plaque, squeezed the hilt in his hands and smiled... before proceeding to slash, stab, dodge and move in response to an invisible opponent.

“What's he doing?” Serana asked, puzzled.

“Proving a point,” Liriel whispered, seeing him at work and realising that he could do it again, he had all his youthful strength back. This, this was the warrior that had united the Reachmen, beaten down all his rivals and emerged the acknowledged King of the Reach.

Finally Madanach lowered the sword and replaced it, returning to Serana without even a hint of exhaustion.

“Liriel, you may tell our children that if they want hand to hand combat lessons off me, they can have them,” Madanach said calmly. “Now, this Vampire Lord form, I take it one just needs to do this...”

Crouching down, ribbons of red began to run over his skin, then they covered his entire body, then there was a dark explosion and then...

Liriel had already been teetering on the brink between fear and arousal and now her body went into overdrive as she saw a Vampire Lord, silver hair falling to just above shoulder level and eyes to match, all hard muscle and wings and power in both clawed hands but despite the grey skin and changed face, still very much her husband.

He'd seen her looking at him, grinned and promptly glided over to the mirror.

“Holy Sithis,” he murmured. “I have _got_ to show Keirine this, she will never have shrieked so loud in her life.” He glanced at his hands, flicking magic into them. “Is this a corpse reanimation spell? And this is some kind of spell for absorbing life...”

“That's right,” Serana confirmed. “You should be able to change into a cloud of bats and travel that way too. And you get more powers the more people you kill in this form. I don't use mine much, so I can't really tell you a lot. Might be worth visiting Mother. She'd know more.”

“She might,” Madanach said thoughtfully. Castle Volkihar had been claimed by the Reach as spoils of war, and despite a protest from Elisif who'd claimed it was part of her Hold, Madanach had been allowed to keep it on the grounds Harkon hadn't been a loyal, tax-paying citizen and it was an island, not part of mainland Skyrim. General Rikke had then gone on to add that of course, the land between it was still part of Haafingar Hold so he'd need Elisif's permission to send troops there. Madanach had laughed and declared himself outfoxed... until he'd been able to open a teleportal in the castle. Caer Volkihar was now the Reach's third city and only port, under the governorship of Matriarch Valerica, the Hagraven requirement being waived on the grounds Valerica had already bartered her humanity for dark magic by becoming a vampire so why not stick with a title Reachmen knew to respect. It was early days, but the East Empire Company already had an office there and ships from all over North Tamriel were calling in. Slowly but surely too, the Reachmen were starting to learn about seafaring and Madanach had plans for a navy of sorts – certainly a merchant fleet if nothing else. Why let the Nords and Imperials make all the coin off the Reach's goods?

But all that was as nothing to Liriel right then. Her husband was a Vampire Lord, and he'd turned to look at her, predatory smile looking even more terrifying on that monster's face. 

Liriel whimpered, unconsciously parting her legs as she felt her loins burning and she just knew Madanach could tell because he dissolved into a swarm of bats and then he was there, right there, looming over her before dropping to the floor and then climbing on the bed, arms either side of her as she fell back, staring helplessly up at him.

Then red ribbons covered his flesh again, and he was human once more, the familiar face of her husband back, except paler and twin pinpricks of gold luminous in the shadows.

“Do you two want some time alone?” Serana called over, amused, and Madanach nodded.

“I think so, machara,” Madanach purred. “We can talk some more about all this tomorrow, yes?”

“Happy to,” Serana grinned as she made her way out. “You two have a good evening now.”

“Oh we will,” Madanach growled as the door closed and he nudged Liriel's legs apart, coming to lie on top of her. She could feel his erection rubbing against her, and it was good to know that at least hadn't changed.

“Madanach,” Liriel whispered, finding it difficult to breathe and then she yelped as sharp teeth grazed her shoulder.

“I can smell you,” Madanach whispered. “I can hear the beat of your heart, the blood rushing in your veins, smell the blood inside you. Gods, cariad, you're so warm, so... alive!” He leaned down and kissed her neck and Liriel whimpered, terrified and yet desperate for more, desperate for his fangs to pierce her skin and then...

“Not tonight,” Madanach murmured, drawing back and kissing her cheek rather more chastely. “I'm not hungry, don't think I'll need to feed for a few days yet. Slan Gwasanaeth has been stockpiling blood potions, their chief healer knows why but no one else. They're thinking of doing a trial of how vampirism affects Skooma addiction, although gods know this isn't a cure for everyone.”

“But you took it,” Liriel whispered, squirming and rubbing against him wishing he'd just fuck her already. “It suits you.”

“Doesn't it just?” Madanach smirked, glancing down at her. “You are really quite aroused by this, aren't you?”

Liriel nodded, reaching out to hold him as he began to kiss her neck again.

“Doesn't bother you you're essentially fucking a corpse,” Madanach murmured, and Liriel almost sobbed with need at that point.

“No,” she whispered. “I'm sorry.”

“Oh do not apologise,” Madanach whispered back as he began to undress her. “You're the reason I did it in the first place. Because my wife had needs I couldn't meet otherwise.” He had her pants off by this point, fingers slipping into her cunt and then he was unlacing himself before sheathing himself in her, grinning as she cried out.

“Tonight, we fuck,” he murmured into her ear, nuzzling the tip. “But tomorrow night... tomorrow I'll likely be hungry. Then, Liriel, if you're willing, I fancy breaking my fast on dragon blood.”

“Please,” Liriel sobbed and Madanach withdrew before slamming into her harder and Liriel lay back, arching into him and clinging on as her newly-vampirised husband demonstrated that this was only going to enhance their sex life.

In the morning, there'd be explaining to three children that Daddy couldn't really go out in sunlight any more but not to worry, he was fine. Right up until Lucia rolled her eyes and said “he's a vampire, isn't he? What? It's obvious, he's wearing illusions like Auntie Keirine does and I don't think they made him a Hagraven like she is.” At which point Madanach sighed, dropped the illusions, admitted it and reserved the disguise for when Imperial dignitaries showed up. The citizens of Markarth, by this point inured to practically anything, just rolled their eyes, said 'it figures' and got on with their lives, adjusting quite well to court hours lasting from midday to ten in the evening. Elisif took the news slightly less well, and there might have been a few choice arguments with Argis along the lines of 'what exactly have I married into??' but in the end, she calmed down and finally agreed he could still see Lirela – during the day anyway.

Ten months after the Vampire Reach-King came to power, more grandchildren came his way as Eola finally did her duty to the Reach and gave birth to twin girls, who turned out to have Breton features but their father's red hair and dark eyes. While Eola seemed quite happy to leave the children at Understone Keep in their grandfather's care for most of the time, Cicero turned out to have stronger parental instincts than anyone suspected, and doted on them and fussed over them constantly, possibly a little too much. But no one could deny he loved his little girls and Princesses Amalia and Stelmaria loved him back just as much. Eola remained unsure what to do with them, but fortunately, Amalia in particular was determined to love her mother anyway, and so Eola learnt how to fuss over kids and at least pretend to be interested in what they were up to... and as they got older, the two Reach-Princesses actually found they preferred their mother's company and inability to be shocked by anything to their father's constant fussing.

Madanach of course adored them both unconditionally, and if Liriel remained sceptical of his belief they were his two oldest come back, she said nothing. It made him happy to think it, so why upset him?

Twenty five years later, and Madanach honoured his word and just about brought himself to sign an Act of Abdication in Eola's favour. The ink was barely dry before Eola dubbed him Lord Protector of the Reach and made him promise to take care of the country and come to its aid when it needed it, also granting him Druadach Redoubt as his forever, along with a retinue of guards and servants because gods forbid he do his own housework. Madanach hadn't known what to say, but he'd thanked her profusely. 

Years passed, and Argis passed peacefully away one winter, and Elisif five years later, never having really got over him but comforted in her latter years by an equally heartbroken Madanach, who couldn't quite understand how his son had got older than he ever had in life.

If Argis's death had been hard on him, Eola's nearly destroyed him. But he survived, thanks to Liriel and Ancalime taking him to Auriel's Chantry where he stayed for a few decades, coming to terms with being an immortal and watching his loved ones die. No one back in the year 203 would ever have thought Madanach and Sabrinda would ever be friends, but in those dark years for the ex-Reach-King, it happened.

Cicero survived until ninety years old, left a traumatised widower... at least until Liriel told him to say goodbye to his girls and took him to the Chantry as well. There in a temple of Anu, Madanach finally took Cicero in his arms and sent him home to Sithis as painlessly as possible. And if Madanach granted Cicero's last wish as well, to finally get his hands in Madanach's pants, no one knew that except Madanach himself.

Sissel went on to learn all the magic ever, or a lot of it at any rate, trained under Keirine, and after a good few decades of study, chose Ascension and went on to become Matriarch of Red Eagle Redoubt, Bleakwind Bluff and the Sundered Towers, often Illusion-cloaking herself and visiting her childhood home of Rorikstead to tend to the sizeable Reachman population there.

Lucia did get into the Bards' College, proving unexpectedly talented and reworking a lot of Reach folk songs into bardic melodies, ensuring Reach culture had a permanent place in Skyrim's cultural records. Madanach and Liriel both were regular attendees whenever she put on a concert, and Madanach in particular was very proud of her.

Ancalime proved to be an apt pupil of Cicero's and went on to join the Dark Brotherhood despite Liriel repeatedly saying no, her mind only changed when Ancalime somehow crept into a Sanctuary, stole the ledger, carried out three of the jobs all by herself and cheerfully demanded payment off her stunned sister. Madanach had nearly killed himself laughing, telling Liriel she'd have to say yes before Cali went freelance and started stealing their business, at which point Liriel had given in and finally agreed, after a few choice words on not stealing and on the necessity of a chain of command. Madanach and Cicero had both been very proud of her and sorted her out with a 'Welcome to the Family' present of a Daedric archery set and ebony sword, all with top of the range enchantments. When Cicero passed, Madanach gave her Cicero's dagger and motley as well, telling her to make the Keeper proud. It didn't really fit her that well, but she treasured the hat for the rest of her life. When she discovered a scroll at Dawnstar Sanctuary claiming to resurrect the spirit of a legend of the Dark Brotherhood, tried it out for a laugh and found herself bonded to a spectral Cicero who was very pleased to see the little elfling again, her joy was complete.

Caradach grew up to be remarkably well-adjusted for the son of a Dragonborn assassin Archmage and a Vampire Lord ex-King in Rags. Gifted at magic, but preferring building things to destroying them, he went on to become a talented Arcane Smith, even heading off to Jorrvaskr to help work the Skyforge. The Companions weren't entirely sure what to make of a half-Altmer who didn't seem that bothered about glory or battle or anything but who did know how to craft a blade that would make a Grey-Mane weep – and did. But nevertheless they let him help out and despite him hanging lucky Spriggan head talismans all over the Skyforge for luck, they all got rather fond of him and even put up with his mage mother constantly visiting and clucking over him – especially after said mage mother won a sword fight with the Harbinger and turned out to only be the bloody Dragonborn, didn't she? Madanach did eventually reconcile with his son after five years and Liriel nagging at him, and then Madanach found the Underforge and started carrying out a few experiments there, and after that Caradach could wish his father had gone back to not talking to him.

As for the Reach, it prospered well under the House of Madanach's leadership, and during the Second War with the Dominion, even expanded. As the Dominion conquered High Rock, the Breton refugees fled into the Reach, and where some would have seen a social problem, Queen Eola saw an opportunity and enlisted a certain Lord Protector who knew a thing or two about insurgency warfare and camp organisation. Six months later and the Dominion found itself beset by a well-funded, well-organised resistance movement called the Forsworn who struck out of nowhere, were apparently immune to performances of the Black Sacrament, and used strange dark magic even the Dominion didn't know about. High Rock was soon reclaimed and turned from a collection of independent city-states into a united kingdom with its capital at Markarth and Queen Eola as its leader. The United Bretonic Kingdom of High Rock and the Reach soon allied with Skyrim and retook Cyrodiil back from its elven occupiers, and Valenwood soon followed, thanks in no small part to Queen Eola's agents making common cause with certain native Bosmer leaders. The Dominion crumbled after that, revolution in Alinor led by a certain Naarie and her husband Haldyn bringing the Thalmor down from within. Three years after all the dust settled, Liriel was finally able to go home, taking Ancalime, Sabrinda, Caradach and Madanach with her and finally getting to see her brother again. As she'd long thought, Haldyn and Madanach got on just fine, although finding out her brother and his wife had been secretly leading the resistance all this time was unexpected. 

After that, Tamriel lived in peace for a long time to come, and the Reach in particular flourished, its rulers being the best behaved dynasty Tamriel had ever seen, possibly something to do with a certain vampire Lord Protector dropping in at random intervals to ensure all was well. Aside from the Intervention of 435 when King Cicero II turned out to have Queen Eola's appetites but not the wit to hide them like she had and ended up being stabbed in his own throne by Lord Protector Madanach for everyone's good, and the Regency of 525 when Madanach IV died tragically young, leaving a five year old daughter Princess Liriel and his widow, Queen Idgrod Black-Briar. Idgrod ruled as regent for five years, five long and painful years in which funding for the Slan Gwasanaeth was gutted, the Reach's wealth went more to fuelling her party lifestyle than actually running the country, and Black-Briar Meaderies was invited in to run the Reach's mines in return for a large cut of the profits. The last straw came when Liriel uncovered evidence Idgrod's lover and steward Arnwulf was also taking his pleasure with her ten year old namesake, at which point Madanach finally snapped. Arnwulf and Idgrod disappeared mysteriously one night and Markarth woke to find King Regent Madanach and his steward Liriel cheerfully burning the Black-Briar contracts, reinstating funding for the Slan Gwasanaeth, telling various Nord overseers to go to the Void and howling with laughter when threatened with the Black Sacrament. Fifteen years of peaceful rule followed, during which time Princess Liriel flourished and when Regent Madanach stepped down in her favour, she went on to rule for sixty years and was remembered as one of the Reach's kindest, fairest and most loved rulers.

All things end in time, and Liriel grew old and died, her body letting her down in a fight she'd once have won with her eyes closed. Shortly after, Matriarch Sissel reversed the Lord Protector's vampirism, and a mere three years later, Madanach Saorseach, father of a nation, passed into the Void, mourned by half a continent who'd grown up on King in Rags and Dragonborn stories. But King Argis III of the United Bretonic Kingdom wasted no time raising a memorial to them in Markarth outside Understone Keep, including hyper-realistic holographic portraits of the Dragonborn and Liberator.

So it was two Altmer found themselves staring at the memorial stone, and if one was half-blood rather than full-blood, and the other was dressed in Shrouded Armour with a spectral jester dancing in the background, no one commented. 

“Do you think they'd have liked it?” Caradach asked.

“He would. She'd have hated it,” Ancalime replied. It was a stone plinth with a great painted red eagle on top with wings spread, and a dragon sprawled at the bottom, painted red with gold eyes. The plinth had Madanach's portrait on the left, Liriel's on the right, both smiling eternally at each other, their names and dates of birth and death underneath. Below that was a slogan in both Rhanic and Tamrielic, reading “PARENTS OF A NATION. SAVIOURS OF THE WORLD. NEVER FORGET.”

“Cicero thinks it is an excellent likeness,” Cicero chirped up, bouncing up to stand next to Ancalime and examine the portraits. “Madanach looks very young, doesn't he? You can hardly see any wrinkles.”

“Liriel had grey hair when she died, that is not grey hair,” Ancalime nodded. “But I don't think either of them really wanted to be recorded for posterity as anything other than as they were at their prime.”

“Da always said his prime was as Reach-King the first time,” Caradach said solemnly. “When he had blonde hair, not silver. I can't really imagine him with hair any other colour. Even Ma didn't know him back then. I miss them.”

Ancalime's hand crept into his, as the aunt who'd always been more like a sister comforted him.

“So do I,” she said quietly. “But you know Madanach wanted to go by the end.”

“I know,” Caradach said roughly. “And when he did die, he wasn't the all-conquering fighter who raised me, I know that too. All the same... he had a choice! He could have stayed a vampire, or turned Ma or...” He wiped a tear from silver eyes just like his father's and Ancalime reached out to cuddle him.

“All things must die, caradion,” Ancalime whispered.

“Of course they must!” Cicero cooed from where he was lovingly stroking Liriel's portrait. “We would be out of a job otherwise!”

“Cali,” Caradach said, his voice muffled. “Can I stab him?”

“Surprised you asked,” Ancalime said crisply. “Your da never did.” 

True enough, Caradach had lost count of the number of times he'd seen Madanach burn, freeze, shock or just life drain Cicero over the years whenever he lost patience with the ghostly jester. Unnerving to watch, but Caradach had learned an awful lot from watching his father at work. Now he'd never see him again and it was breaking his heart.

Tinny, electronic version of the Sky Song of the Reachmen burbled out and Caradach swore loudly as he reached for his phone. Small portable telecommunication devices that could in addition to contacting anyone with a similar device also dial into a mysterious Cloud in one of the Daedric Realms that could store knowledge. A bit weird having a Daedric portal in one's pocket but it was amazing what you could get used to. Such as the bloody thing going off at precisely the wrong moment.

“It's Teldryn. I'd better take this,” Caradach sighed. “Hey. Teldryn, cariad, what's up. You and Karliah OK?” 

Ancalime sat back and watched while Caradach talked to his husband. Teldryn and Karliah, Caradach's Dunmer spouses, were friends of his mother and both older than him – but Caradach, much like his father, was persistent, determined and a little blind to convention, and had successfully seduced Teldryn Sero first and then they'd both coaxed Karliah out of seclusion and into their bed a decade or so later. Three adorable Dunmer-Altmer-Breton children, Brynja, Gallus and Lirion, had been the result. Madanach had taken the whole thing in his stride without batting an eyelid, Liriel had taken rather more convincing, but she'd been won round by grandchildren.

“Brynja's done WHAT?” Caradach shouted into the handset. “Tel, they don't even have dragons in Blacklight. Do they?”

Far in the distance, the very ground shook as the Greybeards Shouted for the first time in centuries.

“DOVAHKIIN!”

“Bollocking bloody daedra, all right, keep calm, don't do anything, I'm coming home on the next portal,” Caradach was saying, running fingers through his hair. “We'll figure this out. Somehow. Look, don't panic, Ma did the same and it never did her any harm. Brynja will be fine, just stay calm. Oh and Ma's dictionary of the Thu'um – I know for a fact there's a copy in Vlindrel Hall, we have to keep hiding it from Cicero. I'll get it and bring it to you, looks like Bryn's going to need it. See you soon, Tel. Yeah, you too. Kiss Karliah for me and tell the kids I'm on my way. Bye, cariad.”

Caradach hung up, still swearing profusely.

“What just happened?” Ancalime said innocently, although she could certainly guess.

“Dragon just attacked Blacklight, Brynja took its soul after the Redoran Guard killed it,” Caradach sighed. “I think my kid's Dragonborn and more than that, I think the dragons may have torn up the Paarthurnax Accord. Sure as fuck hope Alduin's not back. At least we've still got the Elder Scroll, and we know the words for Dragonrend and Odahviing'll give Brynja a lift to Skuldafn without us having to trap him this time. Also it's just possible the Blades will actually do what the fuck they're told this time round without Da having to besiege the Temple and threaten them.” Caradach stopped, looking at the memorial and remembering his father would be doing no such thing, and King Argis was not going to send the ReachGuard out just for the asking.

“What if they don't?” Ancalime asked, fingering her automated repeating crossbow. “Then what?” 

“Then we do it without them. Or sneak in there and leave daggers in the Grand Master's headboard with cheerful little notes telling her to do her bloody job or else. Come on, you're the assassin, you know how to intimidate people, right? I just invent things.”

“Including some of the deadliest weaponry known to man,” Ancalime grinned. “Come on, nephew. We've got a bit of dragon blood in our veins too, you know. Let's go shoot some lizards down.”

“Let's kill someone!” Cicero squealed, taking off after the two Altmer as they ran for Markarth City Teleportal. Somewhere in the Void, Madanach and Liriel glanced up from where they were taking tea with Kaie and Red Eagle and reminiscing about old times, looked at each other and smiled. The world was in excellent hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that is the end. I hope you've enjoyed it, this fic's been a joy to write. Thank you for all the comments, I've really appreciated them!
> 
> It is possible that more fics may get written in this universe, but Madanach and Liriel's story is essentially done. Ar aglar y Rhan. I don't know what TESVI will bring, probably absolutely nothing on the Forsworn, but in my head, this is what happens really. :)


End file.
